


Kings of New York

by northfox



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: F/M, I AM NOT A SMUT WRITER SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE, M/M, There's self harm and drug abuse in this fic, Theres so many references to famous mob movies and shows i love it, churchtarts, its historically accurate too because i did so much frigging research, mcpriceley, please read responsibly, this is my baby and i love it so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 37,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northfox/pseuds/northfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Book of Mormon / 1970s New York Mobsters AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu on tumblr, my URL is: eriksfavoritecape
> 
> This fic isn't done but it'll be mainly updated on Wattpad (find me at: UniqueTwists)

Made man- A fully initiated member of the American mafia (adj. get made)

Goodfella- A made man

Whacked- Murdered

Hitman- Somebody hired to kill someone

Daisy Chain- A wiring scheme in which many devices are connected to one another

Hit- To have a hit on someone is to have them marked for death

The Code of Omertà- A cultural expression and code of honor that places legitimate importance on a deep-rooted family sense of a code of silence, non-aggravation with authorities, and non-interference in the legal actions of others

Godfather- The head of a crime family, but not necessarily an actual religious godfather

Man of Honor- A made man

Wiseguy- A made man

Mafioso- A made man

To Whack- To share

Cafone- A person who is an embarrassment to himself and others

Babbo- An idiot or useless underling

To Get One's Buttons- To be made

Fence- Someone who sells stolen goods

Caporegime (Capo)- The captain of a division within a mob family and handles the money produced by his men.

Capo Bastone (Underboss)- The second-in-command hierarchically. Underbosses typically find themselves being groomed for eventual takeover in the event of a sudden or violet boss death. Acts a stand-in for absent bosses.

Consigliere (Chief Advisor)- Doesn't hold a spot in the hierarchy, but is a close trusted friend and confidant of the boss. Typically they're summoned by the boss for strategic and personal advice in reference to medieval royal advisors to monarchs. They're depended upon to help keep emotions out of the boss' decisions. Only the boss and underboss have more authority than the chief advisor.

Zip- A rude slur for Sicilian mobsters

Broken- Demoted in rank

Clip- To murder

The Commission- A ruling panel of NY bosses. Sometimes it includes representatives from other cities like Chicago or Miami.

Contract- A murder assignment

Meat-eater- A corrupt cop

Going South- Stealing; passing money under the table; going on the lam

Cugme- A young man looking to be made

Empty Suit- Someone with nothing to offer but hangs around mob families anyway

Enforcer- Someone sent out to get a message across, usually by force

Gift- Bribe

Give a Pass- To grant reprieve from murder

Hard-on with a Suitcase- Mob layer (Female- Half Hard-on with a Suitcase)

Hitting the Mattresses- Going to war (Alternative- Taking to the Mattresses)

Piece- A gun

Pinched- Arrested

Going- About to be murdered

Chased- Banished from the mafia and forbidden from further mob dealings. Being chased is considered a merciful punishment, considering the fact that the alternative is death.

Come In- To see the boss when summoned

Stand-up Guy- A man who won't rat out the family, no matter what the circumstances

Clock- To keep track of someone

Do a Piece of Work- To murder

Friend of Mine/Ours- Introducing an unmade/made man who can be vouched for

Hot Place- A location of police activity or surveillance

Capo di tutti Capi (Boss of Bosses)- The unofficial, yet recognized, leading boss. Usually has a more powerful opinion and vote in decisions and typically leads the richest family.


	2. The Families

"Prominent mob boss, Vincent "Vinny" Price, dead."

The code of Omertà holds strong and details are scarce and hard to come by.

A new boss steps up, a young man, Kevin Price. Tall, tan, Italian, and groomed to take over as reigning patriarch of the Price Crime Family.

A made man at age sixteen and credited with over twelve hits, six of which he performed himself.

Kevin would be taking over the sleazy courtroom kingdom that his father and his father before him had built from the ground. A team of handsome young lawyers, fake witnesses, tampered juries, payed off judges, rouge cops, and charismatic business men made up Kevin's stock, and together they ran New York's law system.

\------

The McKinleys, 2nd generation Irish immigrants, petty alcohol jockeys and dirty Catholics.

They pray before each murder, and bless the souls of those they kill all in the name of a shared goal with the other families; money and power.

Connor McKinley, was a short, loyal, redhead currently being trained by his father to take over the family one day.

\------

With the press wrapped around one finger and the rest of New York wrapped around another, Donnie Neeley was untouchable. If he said something didn't happen, it didn't happen.

The city, his city, only knew what Donnie wanted it to know and that's how The Mob liked it.

\------

Barter and trade sometimes outweighed money in the business of professional crime and the Davis family ran that show.

It was very rare for drugs to enter the city without the Davises knowing about it.

Carlo Davis had been running the family for years in secret. The Davises were wary of outsiders learning about their Godfather's onset Alzheimer's so they used the occasionally senile, old Frank Davis as a figurehead like the Queen of England.

\-------

Loan sharking, phony business ventures, falsified documents, shipping and import scams. The Cunningham Family's deceptive skills were first class.

They could get you fake government papers within hours and they had a foot in every different corporation on the East Coast.

The biggest kept secret in the family was Arnold, the big boss' son. Arnold was a loose-lipped, screw-up who'd spill secrets to the Feds without even knowing it. The other families didn't even know the young man existed and his father, Vito Cunningham, wanted it to stay like that.

\------

Each mob family consisted of smaller cells and syndicates composed of less powerful, but equally as brutal, families.

\------

The Michaels Family and the Zelder Family, two groups working under the Neeleys. Tony Michaels and Sam Zelder led the two smaller groups and directly corresponded with their higher-up, Donnie.

\------

Underneath the Prices, two families, the Churches and the Thomases could be found. James Church and Chris Thomas were more than conspirators with their new boss Kevin, they'd been friends since childhood and together they ran the smoothest family operation in New York.

\------

The Green Family served loyal under the McKinley Family since before they came to America and in the eyes of the McKinleys, every Green was expendable.

\------

It was harder to get made in the Davis Family than any other, but if you fell into the Schrader or Young Families, you got an easier ride.

The Davises took care of the two families beneath them, but they were obsessed with keeping The Family "pure" and hardly ever took in any new boys.

\------

Fast-talking, charismatic, and inherently good-looking, The Smith family worked the behind the scenes magic in the Cunningham's scam empire.

They did the legal and face work while their father family devised the plots.

\------

The sub-families were typically saddled with grunt work and blame while the higher-ups made hits and got rich, this was a fool-proof system to prevent uprisings and keep an air of aristocracy around the heads.

\------

In the 1970s these families ran the show and nobody could possibly bring them down, until a driving force from the inside threatens the sanctity of their entire operation.


	3. One

"Now listen to me, stay in your lane and don't look at anybody for longer than ten seconds, that is unless you want a bullet in your brain."

"Okay James."

"And don't offer any ideas, plans, suggestions, or comments."

"Then why am I even here?"

"Because your father's passed away and we need the other families to know that we aren't weak."

Kevin nodded and took a deep breath, puffing his chest out a bit. James, his best friend, stopped him and looked him up and down. "You got your gun?" He asked.

Kevin patted the gun that was secured on his belt and James nodded approvingly. "You've got this kid."

Kevin swallowed nervously before putting a stony, emotionless expression on and pushing through the double doors into a dimly lit conference room. Despite being under an Italian restaurant, the room was lavishly decorated and five men sat far apart at a long mahogany table. Kevin took a seat in the empty chair at the head of the table.

Opposite him, at the other head, was Frank Davis. The drug lord looked tired and old, but Kevin wasn't the only boss to notice.

Vito Cunningham cleared his throat and clasped his hand together, nodding to each man. "I'm so happy that we can all meet respectfully here today."

The other men nodded and mumbled things like: "Thank you for having us." or "God Bless."

Vito spread his chubby arms in welcome, inviting another man to speak.

Despite all being cold-blooded killers, dirty liars, and overall despicable human beings, mobsters held respect, politeness, and family values at the highest level of importance. That meant that being disrespectful could get you a pretty wicked beating, or worse.

Kevin, ignoring all of James' warnings, cleared his throat. "I'd like to thank you gentlemen and your families for the kind words my mother, siblings, and I received at my father's passing."

"Your father was good man and an even better boss." Donnie Neeley said, nodding his head in reminiscence.

"Vinny left some big shoes for you to fill, kid." Conall McKinley said.

"My name is Kevin. Not 'kid'." Kevin stated firmly, knowing that he'd have to nip that habit at the bud before everyone began calling him pet names.

Kevin wasn't quite sure why Conall was even there, his family was the most impure out of everyone at that table. The McKinleys didn't have an Italian bone in their bodies and their only claim to fame was their peddling of bootleg alcohol. In Kevin's opinion, they should've been put in their place long ago and stricken from family summits like his one, but he didn't have the power to do that.

Not yet.

Donnie laughed and took a sip of his wine. "That's right Kevin, establish yourself. Your father taught you well my boy."

Donnie Neeley and his family had always been alright in Kevin's book. Their work actually affected change and meant something, without them, the Feds would've had a field day a long time ago. The Neeleys' power was a blessing and a curse to the other families though, while it helped immensely, it also meant that keeping Donnie happy was a number one priority.

"Thank you."

Frank began muttering unintelligible sounds under his breath and twiddling his thumbs, garnering him looks of confusion from his peers.

"Are you alright Frank?" Vito asked.

Donnie laughed and waved the old man off. "He probably got into his own stock." He said, referencing the Davises' drugs.

Eventually, the fascination with Frank died out and attention was redirected back at Kevin. "So, I'm assuming you've been made, correct?" Conall asked directly.

"Yessir, at age sixteen."

"How and who?"

"Two bullets to the chest of cop, turned informant, turned mole."

"That was you?" Donnie asked. "Good work! I heard about that job, nice and clean."

Vito nodded his head. "Admirable job young man."

Kevin's heart swelled with pride at receiving words of praise from some of the most powerful men in America.

Suddenly, the casual conversation lulled and arguments began on business that Kevin wasn't in the loop for yet. He contented himself with listening intently and trying to piece together what was going on.

"I'm not giving you another politician Conall!" Vito shouted angrily.

"The one I've got has a hit on him by the Russians! He isn't gonna be around much longer!"

Donnie spoke up: "This is your third in the last two years Conall; your politicians are dropping like flies and I can't keep cleaning up the messes."

Frank, who'd woken up from whatever daze he was in before, joined the conversation. "Get me the names of the hitmen, I'll have a Schrader on them by next week to see if we can make a deal."

Conall nodded and made a note in his leather bound book. Kevin noticed that the other bosses all had similar books in front of them and he made a mental note to have Chris get him one before the next summit. Chris Thomas was Kevin and James' other best friend.

The three boys grew up together in "the life"and their families served under Kevin's. Now James and Chris were at Kevin's side to help him through his father's death and his newfound responsibilities.

When the summit ended, the men all stood up at the same time and shook hands, gave hugs, and kissed one another's cheeks.

Call it what you will, but at The Mob's core, it was all about family.

Outside the meeting room, James and the other chaperones waited for their bosses patiently. When Kevin emerged, James held his coat out for Kevin to step into. "Godfather." He said with a respectful nod, just like the other chaperones were doing.

Kevin winced a bit at hearing someone so close to him call him Godfather, but that's what he was now.

Kevin was a Godfather.


	4. Two

Connor McKinley sat outside his father's study and shined his own shoes on his lap. Vito Cunningham and his father had been inside speaking for almost three hours and Connor was told to wait outside until they finished.

Occasionally Connor could hear his father's raised voice through the giant, closed oak doors, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Cathal Green, one of Connor's closest friends walked into the foyer and noticed Connor sitting on the couch. "Hey Con." He slapped Connor's knee and sat down next to him. "Waiting on your old man?"

Connor nodded. "Cathal, when do you think he'll let me go with him to a summit?"

"Never? Why would he bring you unless he died or we were at war?"

"I heard that Kevin Price went last time."

"Kevin is a Godfather now."

Connor blinked and looked at his friend. "What?"

"Vinny died last week, got capped by some Jersey Boys."

The Jersey Boys were a lowlife gang of thugs who caused trouble and acted as target practice for the Five Families. Many young boys got made after taking out a Jersey Boy or two.

"That's not true! Vinny would never get whacked by a Jersey Boy. It had to have been a goodfella, somebody with training."

Cathal shrugged. "Well I don't care, Vinny is dead and Kevin was at the last summit with James. I saw them."

"How does Kevin look? Did he seem nervous?"

"Nah, cocky as usual. I heard that he spoke up during the meeting."

"Wow, his first summit and he already opened his mouth?" Connor couldn't help but be impressed, that Kevin Price was ballsy. "D'you know what they're talking about in there? My father and Vito?" Connor asked, nodding his head towards the office doors.

Cathal nodded. "If it's Vito he's in there with, then they're talking about the daisy chain."

"The what?"

Cathal gave Connor a wink. "Y'know, being a Green does have it's perks." He said smugly before getting up and leaving Connor alone again.

Connor's thoughts drifted to Vincent Price's murder; he wondered if it was actually possible for some Jersey Boys to kill a mob boss. If it was them, somebody would have to go and take them out, their hits would be worth a fortune. Considering who it was who died, a Price, Church, or Thomas was probably already on the scent, but this was a chance for Connor to get made and he intended to look into it.

Vito stepped out of the office with sweat stains on his armpits and his fat cheeks flushed red. "Evening Connor." He said with a wave before leaving the foyer and heading outside to his car.

"Son! Get in here!" Conall called from inside his office.

Connor got up and walked into the dimly lit room.

Bookshelves lined the curved walls and two couches faced one another on a green carpet in front of Conall's desk. Connor approached the desk and stood in front of it.

"Yes father?"

"I'm sure that loose-lipped Cathal has already told you about Vincent?"

"Yes father."

"You know it's your birthright to take over this family right?"

"Yes father."

"Well in order to do that you need to be made."

"I know father."

"James Church has been put on the hit for Vincent's killers and he's looking for two more men. Odds are, he'll take that Chris boy that's always up his ass, but I can get you in on the kill."

"Cathal said it was Jersey Boys, father. Why do three men need to go?"

"Jersey Boys?" Conall laughed hysterically, making Connor feel ashamed of his question. "It was those two Carbone boys from lower Manhattan."

The Carbone Family had tried to make "The Five Families" into "The Six Families" for almost a decade, but they lacked everything a crime family needs to rise to infamy. They must've thought that capping Vincent would crumble the Prices, apparently they didn't count on Kevin's competence and his mother's rallying skills.

"Are you sure this is good for my first hit? The Carbones are scum, but they aren't idiots."

"James and Chris are good hitmen and you'll be safe with them. Once you're made, I can start grooming you into a Godfather that will rival that pompous Price boy."

Connor felt excitement tingle through him at the thought of being a Godfather someday.

"Think you're ready, Connor?"

"Yes father."

Laying in bed that night, Connor stared up at the ceiling and thought about his first kill. He attempted to desensitize himself by picturing the events in his mind, but somehow he knew that the real thing would be twelve times worse than what he could imagine.

~-~-~

Cathal came over the next morning for breakfast and Connor sat with him at the counter, watching his mother cook and hum.

"Cathal what was your first hit like?" He asked.

"Did you get a contract!? Congratulations Connor, you're gettin' made!" Cathal exclaimed.

Connor's mother, Aideen, whipped her head to face the young man and tossed a spoon at him. "Cathal Green, there is no yelling in my kitchen." She scolded.

Cathal rubbed his shoulder where the projectile had hit him and apologized. "My first hit was exhilarating, I got to watch the light leave another person's eyes and know that I caused it. I felt powerful and important, like a god."

The gleam in Cathal's eyes told Connor that he viewed his first hit as a fond memory, but Connor felt secretly horrified. He wanted to be made so that he could take over one day, but he didn't want to murder somebody.

There was no other choice though, Connor had a sister not a brother. She couldn't take over, so unless Connor killed a man and got made, a Green would become Godfather and that could not happen.


	5. Three

James shimmied around a bit, trying to fit his gun into his pants. His long legs help to conceal the Remington shotgun that he prized so much. Chris was busy loading his revolver when James stopped him.

"Why are you bringing that?" He asked.

Chris cocked an eyebrow, "To shoot people."

"Not with that. I'm not letting you in that restaurant. Bring your SVD, and put the repressor and scope on it too."

"No way! I'm not sniping for you, I want to be in there!"

"No, Chris." James said firmly.

Chris grumbled something inaudibly and reached up for his gun on a high shelf. He stretched his arm out and snatched at the air. James walked over to help but Chris glared at him. "I can get it." He snapped before jumping up and swiping the gun off the shelf.

"Isn't that McKinley kid coming with us?"

"Yeah, if he puts a bullet in our boys today he's gettin' made."

Chris smiled mischievously. "So we keep McKinley from getting a kill?"

James winked. "That's the plan."

Connor arrived at the van that Chris and James were waiting for him in. He climbed into the back and the van took off, knocking Connor backwards onto his ass.

"You packin'?" James asked. Connor didn't look like he understood the question. In a slow, demeaning tone, James elaborated. "Do you have a gun?"

"Oh, yeah."

"What kind?" Chris asked absently as he clicked the scope onto the gun that was almost half his height.

"It's a pistol, a Luger. My dad- I mean, my Godfather, gave it to me."

~-~-~

When the van pulled up in front of Roma's, an Italian restaurant run by the Carbones, James got out and smoothed his jacket and tie.

"McKinley, you're coming in with me. Chris I want you on the roof of that laundromat across the street."

Chris nodded and jogged across the street and around the other building. Connor shivered and glanced into the restaurant through the large glass window. "What's the plan? There are people in there."

"Just follow my lead."

James walked into the restaurant casually and sat at a table in the restaurant's center, his back facing the door. "Do you want to pull your chair around?" Connor asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"My father says you should never have your back to the door because you don't know who could come through it."

"Y'know who else says that? John Wayne. Now pop-a-squat cowboy."

A waitress came over to the table. "Can I get you boys anything?"

Connor tried to send her away, but James flipped his menu up and cleared his throat before ordering fettucini alfredo. The waitress scribbled down the order and walked away.

"What was that?" Connor hissed. "We're laying low not hanging out."

"Right I forgot, somebody eating in a restaurant is suspicious, but two guys coming in and not ordering anything isn't. Stop talking twinkle toes, I'm a goodfella, I know what I'm doing."

Connor's ears burned with embarrassment, feeling stupid for not thinking before he opened his mouth. Across the street, he observed Chris' small form standing on the laundromat's roof. Wind whipped his blonde hair around as he positioned his large gun, checking the scope every few moments.

The waitress placed a bowl of noodles in front of James and he twirled a fork around in the bowl and lifted the pile of pasta to his mouth. "These Carbones can cook, gotta give 'em that."

Connor noticed Chris waving his arms to get his attention. Chris held up a thumbs-up and Connor told James under his breath, "Chris is ready."

James took a sip of his water and ran his fingers through his hair. "Time to start the show. Here's the plan, Redhead: we fire a shot into the ceiling to clear out civilians, flip this table and use it as a barricade, shoot stragglers and anyone who tries to be a hero, kill the Carbone boys, get my pasta wrapped up to go, then blow this joint. Any questions?"

Connor gulped and shook his head. James grinned and stood up, pulling his gun out of his pants in one fluid motion. He shot up into the ceiling and shouted with a booming voice. "Everyone get the hell out of here!"

People began rushing to the doors, two men remained at their table, glaring at James and Connor. "Here for the Price murder?" One man asked. James nodded.

The two men got up and discharged their weapons, pointing them at Connor and James. Now they were engaged in a steely standoff, weapons at the ready. James got tired of waiting for the firefight to start, so he spat at his enemies' feet disrespectfully.

"You little bitch." One of them grunted, shooting his gun. James bobbed to one side, missing the bullet before ducking behind a booth and planting a bullet in the other man's temple. Connor watched in horror and jolted when blood splattered across his white button down and face. James popped up from behind the booth and wiped some blood off his forehead before pointing behind Connor and shouting: "Watch out McKinley!"

Connor dropped to the ground just as a bullet soared where his head has been. The remaining Carbone kicked Connor's side and shoved him out of the way before pointing his gun at James' face.

Dropping his gun and raising his hands, James glared at the Carbone. "Get it over with." He grunted.

Outside, James could hear other Carbones engaged in a fight with what had to be Chris. Goddamned kid came down from the roof.

The Carbone pumped his gun and flicked off the safety before tightening his finger on the trigger. James squinted his eyes shut and flinched when he heard the bang; no bullet hit him. There was no way the Carbone could've missed.

James opened his eyes and saw Connor standing over a dead body, the back of its skull blown out. His entire front was drenched in warm blood, and it was splattered on his face and matted in his hair. James swallowed hard and picked his gun up. "Thanks McKinley."

Connor nodded before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into the puddle of blood pooling around his victim. James grabbed Connor by his armpits and hoisted him up on his shoulders. "C'mon big guy." He grunted.

~-~-~

Two members of the Green Family waited outside the McKinley Manor to meet their Godfather's son. When the van pulled up to the driveway, Chris and James held Connor with their shoulders, his legs dragging on the ground. They dropped him into the arms of the Greens before leaving abruptly.

Connor was brought inside and stripped naked, his mother cleaned her son and checked him for injuries before dressing him in a suit and laying him down on the couch.

A few hours later, Connor's eyes blinked open and he looked up to see his mother sitting above him, parting his soft red hair with a comb. She planted a kiss on her son's forehead and stroked his cheek with her thumb. "How do you feel baby?"

With a groan, Connor told his mother about a headache that was pounding in his skull.

"Your father wants to see you, buachaill." Connor's mother said, helping him sit up. Connor nodded and turned his body, planting his feet on the carpet.

Walking with unsure and weak movements, Connor made his way to his father's study. He knocked one time and his father invited him in from inside. Connor walked into the office and stood in front of Conall's desk.

"Father." He said with a respectful nod.

Conall stood up and grabbed his son in a tight hug, uncharacteristic of the usually serious man. Connor wrapped his arms around his father and hugged the other man back awkwardly.

The last hug that Connor could remember receiving from his father had been more than sixteen years ago.

"I heard you popped a Carbone in the skull and saved James Church's life!" Conall exclaimed.

Connor nodded deftly, trying not to remember the sight of the mangled head of the man he had slain.

"Get some rest son, the day after tomorrow you're gettin' made."

"Thank you father."


	6. Four

Connor was brought into a room with his eyes covered by a black piece of fabric. Cathal led him blindly until he stripped the fabric away and bowed out of the room.

Every made man in the McKinley crime family sat along the walls of the room. Conall stood at a table across from Connor.

"Did you learn your oath?" He asked.

Connor nodded.

One of his uncles got up and placed a needle in front of Connor, then a cousin stood up and placed a matchbook down on the table. Conall reached into his jacket and pulled out a photo of the Catholic Saint Patrick.

In the photo, St. Patrick was holding two snakes, one in each hand, and standing on rolling green Irish hills.

Conall gestured to the items on the table and spoke, "You may begin." then he went and sat in a chair facing his son.

Connor picked up the needle and pricked his own index finger then pinched his flesh until blood bubbled up on pad of his finger. He held the finger over the picture until a few drops of blood fell onto the saint.

Grabbing the matchbook, Connor looked around the room then struck a match and lit the picture aflame. He held it in his hand and closed his eyes, juggling the paper from hand to hand to keep himself from getting burned, he began reciting his oath.

"As this card burns, may my soul burn in Hell if I betray the Code of Omertà." The fire was dangerously close to Connor's skin now and he began to speed up his pace. "As burns this saint, so will burn my soul. I enter alive and I will have to get out... dead."

When he finished the oath Connor was permitted to drop the photo as the fire consumed the last of the paper. The room erupted in clapping and Connor smiled sheepishly as his relatives stood up and got into a line to congratulate him with kisses to both cheeks and tight hugs.

Outside the room, Cathal and some other Greens stood in the hallway and cheered when Connor emerged from the dark room, blinking in the light. He received more hugs and his prideful blush turned his cheeks bright red.

Connor was now a Man of Honor, a made man.

That night, Connor sat in his father's office and watched him conduct business.

"No Frank, you're such a card. I still wouldn't take anything Mr. Kennedy said personally. No it's a pleasure talking to you, Frankie. Alright, bye mo chara." Cathal hung up his phone and rubbed his temples.

"Was that Frank Davis?" Connor asked.

"No, Frank Sinatra."

"Oh."

"You know, son, you're gonna be taking this all over one day." Cathal gestured around his office. "Now that you're made, I can start teaching you the ropes."

Connor felt proud that he was destined to take over the empire his father and relatives had worked to create.


	7. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {{2 years after Connor took The Oath}}

The first summit since Kevin Price's debut was set to take place on May 29th at the Price Estate in Upstate New York.

Black cars wound up his long driveway; the bosses admired the golden statue of the Angel Moroni in the Prices' front lawn.

Connor McKinley stood by the car while he waited for his father to get out of the backseat. "Are you ready?" Cathal asked Connor as he opened up the door for Conall.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Connor replied in an emotionless tone.

For the last two years, Conall had been training his son, grooming him, into a stone cold mobster. The awkward, nervous, bounciness that had once defined the younger McKinley's personality was now buried beneath years of lessons and mantras.

With heads held high, the McKinleys and their chaperone entered the Price mansion and Connor and Conall were shown to the meeting room. Most everyone was already there.

Some of the current bosses were aging quite visibly. Frank Davis had his son, Carlo, by his side, although he didn't seem to be teaching the boy anything unlike the other families.

Kevin Price sat at the head of the table with a battered old notebook in front of him.

Young Donnie Neeley entered the room, it was the eve of his twenty-ninth birthday. He sat down across from Conall and Connor, offering them an acknowledging nod.

Vito Cunningham's large body filled out his seat and his chubby pink face had beads of sweat dripping down it.

Kevin cleared his throat loudly, shutting-up everyone in the room immediately.

Just like his predecessor, and father, Kevin was the unofficial Boss of Bosses, or Capo di tutti Capi, and everyone else respected the younger man. It could've been his looks, his condescending tone, or his general attitude towards "the life".

This was the first time Connor had even seen Kevin Price in person. In '72 he'd seen a blurry photo of the young man at his father's funeral, but that was about it. Connor was deep in thought about something his mother had said earlier when he felt his father nudge his shoulder. "Stop fucking staring." Conall snapped in a hushed tone.

Connor blinked and realized with horror that he'd been looking directly at Kevin Price. What was even more horrifying was the fact that Kevin held Connor's eye contact, he continued to look into Connor's nervous blue eyes until Connor ducked his head submissively to the boss.

Kevin snorted and looked back at his notebook.

The meeting began with Frank speaking about their newest recruit, Carmine "Cigar" Galante. Frank assured the other bosses that Cigar's only purpose was to traffic their drugs and he would not be getting made at any point in the future.

Kevin took the chance to personally thank Connor for avenging his father with James and Chris two years ago and he congratulated the other man on his getting made. Donnie announced that he'd roped two more members of the Electoral College into a ballot scam he was running with Vito.

Throughout the meeting, Connor had his head down, taking notes for his father. The unmistakeable feeling of being watched shuddered through his body, but he busied himself with the notebook. He could feel a pair of eyes boring into the side of his head; the feeling came from Kevin and Vito's side of the table.

A commotion from outside the meeting room roused the bosses and a maid erupted into the room. "Mr. Price, I'm so sorry, but two men are fighting!" She exclaimed.

The bosses all stood up and rushed outside to see James sitting on top of Cathal's chest, punching him repeatedly in the face. "Say it again! I dare you!" James shouted.

Cathal's mouth was bloody and he spit it up at James, infuriating the man even more. He bashed the side of Cathal's head, knocking the man out.

Kevin broke out of the throng of onlookers and grabbed James' collar. He yanked James off of Cathal and shoved him back into the grass before getting on his knees and talking to the other man quietly.

Connor and the bosses couldn't tell what Kevin was saying, but his furrowed brow and tightly clenched jaw told them he was angry.

Once James was subdued, Kevin approached Conall. He spoke with his teeth clenched in a strained tone. "We are meeting at "Russo's" on Thursday to discuss this disturbance." In a louder tone, Kevin addressed everyone else, "Meeting adjourned!"

~-~-~

In the car on the way home, Connor sat in the front passenger seat while his father brooded in the back. The driver, Cathal's uncle, shifted awkwardly in his seat. After what the young man pulled at the meeting, every Green was bound to be on edge.

From his marble front steps, Kevin Price watched the black cars drive out of his driveway and down the road. His large estate swallowed up each retreating vehicle and he let out a breath the minute the last car was out of sight. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, dropping the stone cold persona he had adopted out of necessity.

Since his father's passing, Kevin had given up all of his hobbies, aspirations, and goals. Kevin's hope was that by the time his father died, his brother Jack would be old enough to take over instead of him. Unfortunately, Jack was twelve when Vinny died, forcing Kevin into power. He busied himself now with keeping the fourteen year old Jack out of trouble and running a crime syndicate simultaneously. 

James walked over to Kevin and sat down next to him on the steps. "I'm sorry Kevin, that little babbo was disrespecting your father on the man's own property."

"I understand James. We have an image to uphold though, nobody is allowed to see us crack."

"Yes sir."

"I'll have to punish you."

"I know."

"I'm gonna need you to turn your Remington in, no hits."

James groaned but obeyed, retrieving his prized gun and leaving it in Kevin's living room before going home.

~-~-~

While going through his notes on the meeting, late that night. Kevin flipped through two pages of observations on the new boys, Carlo and Connor. Carlo was smart, too smart, he didn't look like he was being trained. Connor on the other hand, was an idiot, a complete idiot.

Now, he could've been a very smart young man, but when it came to "business", the boy was completely clueless. Kevin's notes on Connor were as follows:

~ Connor McKinley ~  
Short, soft-looking, a cafone in the making. He's staring at me, let's see how long Conall takes to notice his son's ignorance. He's maybe 26? A good five years older than me at least, I seemed to have matured faster. His eyes are blue like his mother's. He broke eye contact, I think he's blushing...


	8. Six

Kevin had called ahead and gotten Russo's closed for the day so that he could meet with Conall. He was surprised to see Connor trailing into the building behind his father.

The table was a two person structure, so the other McKinley had to awkwardly drag a chair over for himself. Kevin reached across the table and grasped Conall's hands in his own, looking the other man in the eyes respectfully. "I'd like to apologize for the disrespect that took place at the summit."

Conall nodded and returned the sentiment. "I also extend my sincerest apologies."

Every word that came out of the Irishman's mouth made Kevin want to put a bullet in his own mouth. There were few people in the world that Kevin found more intolerable than Conall McKinley.

He actually found himself planning what he'd do when he got home as Conall talked.

"Do you agree?" The other boss asked.

Kevin blinked and put on a poker face. "With?"

"My plan?"

"Run that by me again would you?"

"Sure, you send your best caporegimes to my house on Sunday for the hospital heist."

"What does the hospital have that we need?"

Conall seemed to realize that Kevin hadn't been listening. Instead of huffing and making a big deal about respect, Conall seized the opportunity to get Connor some spotlight. "I actually have to go to a meeting with my consigliere, but my son can fill you in on what you missed."

Before Kevin could object, Conall stood up and motioned for Connor to take his seat, then he left. Kevin fumed over being forced to sit here and converse with Connor, a simple foot soldier. It was disrespectful for such a low ranking mobster to speak to a boss uninvited, and even more disrespectful when he was the boss of another family.

Connor looked horribly nervous, he traced his fingers through his auburn hair and ducked his head a bit, glancing up at Kevin. At least the boy knew that he was out of his league. "Um, this heist was actually my idea." Connor began.

"The answer to a question I never asked." Kevin said, pulling a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it before popping the end into his mouth. Connor watched Kevin's mouth as he positioned he cigar between his teeth and settled it on his lip. He swallowed nervously and looked away when Kevin caught his eye, not wanting another staring contest to take place.

"S-sorry. I'll just start."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"On Sunday, the hospital is running its biannual evacuation drills. The nurses and staff practice getting all the patients out of hospital over and over again. My father has connections to a fence who deals in medical equipment and if we can get heart pace monitors from the hospital, he can get them to Cuba the next day. That means a big payout for the families involved."

Kevin was shocked that this plan came from little Connor McKinley. He'd hardly heard the other man say two words before, and now he's spouting devious, backhanded schemes, and Kevin liked it... a lot.

"I'm assuming your Cathal with be there?"

Connor shook his head. "No, he's on probation for his disrespect. One of our capos, Deaglan, will be carrying out the heist."

"Do you mind if I send James Church? He's a capo and my best man." Kevin inquired.

Connor wasn't sure whether or not his father would be okay with James participating, but he didn't want to lose Kevin's interest. "No, please send him." He said.

The meeting was adjourned after Kevin agreed to send James to the McKinley Manor on Sunday.

~-~-~

Kevin's driver pulled up outside the restaurant and Connor watched him go through the large front shop window.

When he was gone, Connor slumped down in his seat and rubbed his temples. He was having thoughts again.

Horrible, sinful, unnatural, disgusting thoughts that honest Irish Catholic boys weren't supposed to have. Thoughts about men...

Men doing things with Connor that only women should do.

Normally Connor just ignored those thoughts, very rarely did he act upon them. It was usually okay when he fooled around a bit with a cute boy from his old private school or kissed a handsome shop worker, but the thoughts that Connor was having now seemed to stem from Kevin Price.

Connor thought that his gay thoughts couldn't possibly get more destructive, he underestimated himself.

"Oh my god." Connor groaned. It'd been two years since he'd done anything remotely sexual with another man, he tried to quit, what he saw as an addictive sickness, after he got his buttons. A waitress approached Connor with a glass of water and a coaster that she placed in front of him.

"On the house, you look like you need it."

Connor noticed a phone number scrawled across the coaster in pen and he sighed. She was very pretty but, no matter how much he wanted her to be, not his type.

~-~-~

Back at home, Conall was over the moon to hear that Kevin took the deal.

"Keep that up and you'll be an underboss someday son!" He exclaimed, clapping Connor on the back.


	9. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- From this chapter on, a self-harm trigger warning applies --

Chris handed James his gun and helped him slip into his coat. "Please be careful James." The smaller man pleaded.

Taking his gun and tucking it safely against his hip, James smiled at Chris. "I'll be fine, if all goes well I won't even have to use my gun."

Kevin walked into the room and gripped James' shoulder. "Remember why you're doing this. I don't give a fuck about heart monitors, watch the other capos. I want to know who looks weak, who looks tired, who looks high or drunk, I want information."

James nodded aggressively and adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. "Don't worry Kevin, I won't disappoint." He said before leaving the room.

Chris stepped next to his boss and watched James go. "I can't believe your plan worked. How did you know that Conall would put Cathal on probation after the fight?"

"Simple, Conall is a slimy underling in way over his head and he'd do anything to be on my good side."

~-~-~

The plan went perfectly, the capos were able to walk right passed the police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances into the empty, darkened hospital.

Upon seeing the collection of emergency responder lights, Deaglan almost had four bullets in his chest when the others thought it was a set up.

Luckily for him, he managed to convince the other men that the lights weren't his doing and were just a customary part of the drill.

They made out with twenty heart pace monitors that were already on their way to Cuba.

Connor was hailed with praise from the other families who were more than happy with the extra weight he added to their pockets.

~-~-~

Tuesday after the heist's success, Connor walked into the manor and flung his keys into a little wooden bowl.

On the main foyer table, where a vase usually sat, was an enormous gift basket filled with bottles of expensive wines, cheeses, grapes, olives, and colognes. The entire basket smelled like Kevin Price, who always smelled of rich musty wine and an Italian grandmother's house. It was a musky, brooding, layered scent that Connor loved but his father hated.

Conall scrunched up his nose as he entered the foyer to greet his son. "What the hell is this? It smells like those zips." He grumbled, yanking the card off the basket's handle.

Something overcame Connor in that moment, a protectiveness over something that could possibly be from Kevin. He snatched the card out of his father's hands, earning himself a hard backhanded slap across the face. Conall reprimanded Connor but seemed to have lost interest in the card. He left the foyer angrily, grumbling about Connor's generation.

Connor raised a hand to rub at his stinging cheek, he glanced in the large mirror over a vanity and sighed at the pale red mark splashed across his skin.

He pulled some tape off the card and flipped it open.

Connor McKinley,

Props to you for a successful heist, the McKinleys are right to be proud of you. I look forward to seeing you again...

~K. Price

Connor stuffed the card in his pocket and grabbed a bottle of wine before going to his bedroom to overanalyze the last sentence.

~-~-~

In Vinny's office, Kevin poured over his books, desperate for a new idea. He was starving his creativity as a boss, back when he was just a made foot soldier, Kevin had the freedom to plan and execute small jobs whenever he pleased as long as the family got a generous cut of his earnings. That cut never really bugged Kevin since it always ended up in his own father's pocket.

Before he became capo, then underboss, then the big boss himself, Kevin's brain child had been a counterfeit money scheme.

It was much more sophisticated than hacking a photocopier and disabling the EURion constellation detector which stopped them from copying dollar bills. Besides, the lack of legal sanction for the printed money and a potentially massive-scale production rate, it would yield bills that would be indistinguishable from any other money in circulation.

Kevin's patience and long-term view had given him everything he needed.

The only thing he lacked was a team, a competent printing supervisor, and an overseer. He considered asking Chris to oversee the operation, but that would put Kevin's advisor out of his reach for two years, a bad move.

Kevin sighed and crumpled up a sheet of paper that he had illustrated the printer on. He tossed the drawing into the trash and heard it bounce onto the floor. The trash can was full of rejected drafts of his letter to Connor, so full that the paper ball couldn't fit in it.

Many years ago, Kevin thought he'd been... gay. He noticed men more often than women, it disturbed him and his father, whom Kevin was always open to. Vinny Price was a firm believer in the "beat it out of him" method, so Kevin willingly pressed his body against a wall while his father belted his back and legs.

The physical therapy seemed to work for awhile, but Kevin's body was always covered in raised welts and blisters from the leather belt. He was forced to quit his high school swim team and wear looser fitting clothes so that he didn't agitate his raw flesh wounds.

Now Kevin's thoughts seemed to be returning and it scared him to think about how badly he wanted to act upon them. It wasn't as if he had an attraction to one of his lawyers or something, it just had to be the son of the thorn in Kevin's side.

Kevin opened up his desk drawer and dug around a but, he pulled out a letter opener, some scissors, a pair of pliers, and some duct tape. He got up and locked his office door before sitting back down.

Using the duct tape on his ankles, Kevin fastened his legs to the chair to keep them from flinching involuntarily, then he hiked up a pant leg and gripped the letter opener tightly. With clenched teeth, Kevin thought about Connor McKinley.

He thought about Connor's blue eyes, and his pink lips, and how he would look sweaty and shirtless, then Kevin stabbed the sharp object into his thigh and dragged it through his flesh. He grunted as blood surged up from the wound. Beltings didn't work anymore, Kevin needed more serious pain to keep himself in line.

Lately, it didn't seem to work unless blood was drawn.


	10. Eight

Kevin used a paper towel to sop the blood off of his leg and chair before freeing his ankles of their restraints and returning to the tax refunds he was filing.

~-~-~

The next summit was called by Frank Davis only a few weeks after the one that ended abruptly on the Price Estate.

He sat at the head with Carlo behind him. Everyone else took their respective seats, everyone except Conall who was in Ireland visiting an ailing relative. He had sent his son in his place and Kevin gripped his leg, pressing a thumb into his wound, when he saw Connor walk into the room.

Pain surged through Kevin's entire body as he applied more and more pressure to the sensitive flesh until his entire thigh went numb and the tactic was useless.

Connor sat down in Conall's usual seat and opened up a brand new notebook as Frank began speaking.

"We've got an issue gentleman, profilers now have faces and names for all of my footmen and we've got a big delivery to make in three days."

Donnie frowned and looked at his book then up at Frank. "That's not nearly enough time to clear this up."

Frank nodded to him. "Exactly, we need help. This trade off is huge and will open doors for us to dip our feet into the Puerto Rican market."

The Five Families had been trying to get Puerto Rico on their payroll for years now to no avail. Whatever drugs Frank was peddling, those bastards were finally biting and nobody wanted to miss that opportunity.

Connor closed his book and looked up. "I'll make the drop, personally." He said in a firm voice.

All eyes were on McKinley as he nodded to confirm his own statement. "I'll do it."

Frank smiled and reached over the table to shake hands with Connor. "My men don't know you're doing this and I don't intend to tell 'em. So you're gonna have to avoid my boys on the street."

A determined look passed onto Connor's face. "I can do it."

Vito Cunningham let out a booming laugh. "Tough kid! At least Conall's doing something right!"

Everyone, including Connor, enjoyed a laugh at his father's expense before the meeting was adjourned.

On his way out of Frank's giant garden, a hand grabbed Connor's wrist and yanked him into the hedge maze. Connor looked up to see the brown eyes and perpetually scornful glare of Kevin Price.

"Mr. Price, my apologies." Connor said, attempting to duck out of the maze.

Kevin grabbed Connor by the waist and pulled him back. "What do you think you're doing making this drop? You're not a grunt, a soldier, or a footman. You're a pampered son-of-a-bitch with a free ride to being the next Godfather. Why are you risking your life like some associate?"

Connor was shocked by Kevin's passionate tone and he felt something not good. "I-I don't owe y-you an explanation." He stuttered. He tended to do that when he was nervous or attracted to someone, at this point Connor had no idea which reason was correct and it didn't matter.

"No you don't. You're stupid, kid, really fucking stupid."

Connor fumed and placed his hands flat on Kevin's chest, pushing him back. "No I'm not, I know what I'm doing, and don't call me kid. I'm older than you." Connor noticed Kevin grip his leg tightly, he seemed to be wincing inwardly as he subtly tried to inflict some sort of pain on himself. "What are you doing?" Connor asked, taking a step forward.

"Nothing, just go be an idiot and get involved with drugs. Your father is a babbling idiot who should stay in Ireland and drink himself to death, but he's still a mobster and every mobster knows the golden rule."

Connor crossed his arms. "Apparently not everyone."

"You don't fuck with drugs."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well here's another golden rule for you, don't fuck with me either." Connor turned on his heels and strode out of the maze and to the idling car with a sense of pride. Angry Kevin was a sexy Kevin, but Connor managed to keep his wits about him and handle the situation with dignity.

~-~-~

Three days later, Connor arrived at the Davises' giant garden chateau to pick up the package. When he walked through the large glass front doors he was shocked to see Kevin standing outside Frank's office, laughing and patting him on the back. Kevin shifted his gaze over to Connor and his phony smile wavered.

"Great talking to you Frank, and congrats again on breaking Puerto Rico. We all owe you."

"I'll remember that, don't you worry! See you Kevin." Frank said.

Both Connor and Frank observed Kevin warily as he clipped his prized Tommy gun onto his belt and shrugged on a long grey coat to conceal it.

"Gentlemen." He said curtly before walking out the front door.

Carlo Davis walked into the room with a squishy white package tied up with string. It about a foot long on both sides and Connor took it, holding it close to his chest. "Our men want this, they'll think your stealing it or something. Be careful and get it to Hunt's Point by four." He said.

Connor nodded and took the package, he clutched it tightly as he began the long walk to the dock.

~-~-~

Connor walked through a seedy, crumbling neighborhood. Graffiti tagged the walls and it smelled like sweat. He had slipped the package into a backpack and he clutched the handles with white knuckles.

A dark car pulled up to the curb and slowed down to follow Connor. He clutched his bag tighter, worried about keeping its contents away from any prowling Davises.

Somebody in the backseat began cranking down the window and Connor picked up his pace, his shoes clacking against the sidewalk.

"Connor!" A familiar voice called.

Connor swiveled around to see Kevin, still in his grey coat, sitting in the car. "Go away." Connor spat.

"Get in the car McKinley, you know where you are and you know what's in that bag. We'll find your brains on the pavement tomorrow morning if you don't hightail it out of here."

"Yeah, well ten ounces of this stuff says you've still got your Tommy shoved in your pants."

"Connor if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

"Don't flatter yourself, I know my way around."

Kevin got out of the car and shrugged his coat off. "Pat me down Whiskey-Boy. I'm not packing."

Connor shifted the bag's weight to one shoulder and felt up and down Kevin's pant legs, he was clean.

"Enjoying yourself down there?"

"Just get me to the dock." Connor said, climbing into the car's backseat.

Kevin and Connor sat next to one another, their legs brushed occasionally, sending unwelcome chills down both men's spines.

The car pulled up to a creaky wooden dock that was shrouded by mist. The glassy, clouded water sloshed against the barnacle crusted support beams.

As Connor walked down the dock, the boards squealed and creaked beneath his feet. Kevin waited at the edge of the dock patiently while Connor made the drop.

Connor stepped onto an empty skiff and left the package on the only piece of furniture in the boat, a single table.

When he got out, the feeling of being watched prodded at both men as they made their way back to Kevin's car. Connor noticed that the driver was gone.

"Where's your driver?" He asked nervously, worried that this entire scheme had been a hit and there was no Puerto Rico deal to begin with.

"Don't worry, you're not gettin' whacked." Kevin said, climbing into the driver's seat. "We need to talk, that's all."

Connor knew better than to upset a boss, especially a boss with some impressive hits on his record. As he began climbing into the backseat, Kevin spoke up again, "No, I want you in the front." He said in a commanding tone. Connor obeyed and changed seats to sit beside Kevin.

The entire ride, Connor was sure that a car would swerve out of nowhere and hit his door, killing him instantly. No such car ever came.

~-~-~

The car pulled up to the Price Estate. Kevin got out without looking at Connor and walked inside. He assumed the other man would follow; he was correct.

When Connor walked in, Kevin slammed the door behind him and shrugged off his coat.

"I want to show you something." Kevin said solemnly, leading Connor into Vinny's office.

Still not sure that he wasn't going to get murdered, Connor followed reluctantly. Kevin slammed the door behind them and locked five separate locking mechanisms.

Connor gravitated towards a wall where he'd have a full view of the room and any attackers that might spring out at him.

He watched warily as Kevin flipped the top half of a globe open and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Want some?" He asked, raising the glass to Connor. Connor nodded desperately and accepted the drink with gusto.

The whiskey was higher quality than anything his father had ever given him, but it wasn't as rich as the wine he'd gotten from Kevin. After finishing his drink, Connor felt significantly more relaxed. "What was it you wanted to show me?" He asked.

Kevin sat down and pulled his left pant leg up a bit. Connor winced when he saw a long jagged gash across Kevin's thigh. The wound was pink and irritated and it looked as if it had been bleeding recently.

"This is because of you." Kevin said slowly.

Feeling incriminated and slightly offended, Connor shot a glare at Kevin. "I didn't touch you. How the hell is that my fault?" He snapped.

"It's your fault because every time I think of your lips against mine, my hands on your body, your chest flush against my own..." Kevin trailed off a bit, lost in his personally fantasy. "... I press my thumb onto my leg like this-" Kevin pressed the base of his palm against the injury, and Connor winced when he heard squishing as blood oozed up and dripped down Kevin's thigh.

"St-stop that!" Connor cried, lunging forward and grabbing Kevin's wrist. "Wh-why are y-you hurting yourself like th-that!?" Connor asked, his nervous stutter returning.

"Because of you! Because I can't stop thinking about doing things with you and I need to stop!" Kevin gestured to his open, bloody wound. "This stops me!"

Realization washed over Connor, he could relate to this. The wanting it stop, doing anything to make the horrible, dirty thoughts just go away. Granted, Connor had never resorted to self-harm, but Kevin was suffering.

Connor tried to convince himself that what he was about to do was right. If I sleep with Kevin, then he won't have to hurt himself. If he keeps harming himself he could die and James Church might take over as boss. James hates us McKinleys, he'll boot us out of New York. If I do this, it'll help everyone.

It was a long-shot, but it was good enough for Connor.

He stepped forward and grabbed a napkin from next to the whiskey in the globe. Connor wiped the blood off of Kevin's leg slowly, before tossing the soiled towel in the trash. "Don't hurt yourself anymore."

"I have to."

"No you don't, I don't want to turn it off anymore and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"What are you proposing?"

"A symbiotic relationship. Whenever we have thoughts, we find each other and we let all our feelings out."

"Our secret, right?"

"Of course."

Kevin looked at his injury, then up at Connor's blue eyes. "It beats the alternative." He said.

Connor sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Thank god, I need to start now."


	11. Nine

Connor laid next to Kevin in his large large four-post bed, he was exhausted and exhilarated as he rested his head on Kevin's bare chest.

"I needed that, badly." He said.

"So did I." Kevin replied with sated, sleepy eyes.

"When did you know that you were gay?" Connor asked, wondering if his personal struggle had been the same for the man he was lying in bed with.

Kevin thought back over his twenty-one years of living. One day in particular stood out on his journey: The day he got made.

"Probably the day I got made because I realized that I was in this life now and I couldn't be the person I wanted to be anymore."

Thoughts flooded back to Kevin now, the memories of that scarring day...

~-~-~

Kevin, blindfolded, was shoved into a room. He heard the door slam behind him and he crossed his arms over his chest nervously. The sound of shoes scuffing alerted him that he wasn't alone.

I'm getting whacked. Probably by Russians, like Danny. He thought.

Danny Price was Kevin's deceased older brother, he got shot in the face by a member of the Russian mafia two years prior.

The barrel of a gun was pressed up against Kevin's lower back, he tensed up, ready to have his spinal cord blown in two. The shot never came, instead, the gun nudged Kevin forward until his hips banged up against a table. The blindfold was stripped away and Kevin saw his father standing near him.

Vinny's face looked as if it was carved in stone, he didn't have an inkling of human emotion anywhere, not even in his eyes. Lining the walls were chairs filled in by Kevin's family, unlike their boss, most of them looked proud and excited.

"This is a son of mine." Vinny said. Kevin's heart rate spiked when he heard that line because he now knew what was going on, Kevin was getting made.

The other men in the room nodded gently as Vinny spoke. When he finished Kevin's introduction, Vinny placed a sword on the table in front of his son. He motioned for Kevin to place his hand on the blade, which he did, then Vinny pulled a picture of the Virgin Mary from his suit jacket. Striking a lighter, Vinny set the picture aflame and passed it around the room.

"My boy, you live by the blade, by the mother, by honor-"

Kevin didn't hear the rest of what Vinny was saying because he was mesmerized by the burning picture that was changing hands around the room. When the photo reached Kevin it fell to ash in his palm. With a small knife, one of Kevin's many cousins sliced his arm and let the blood splatter on the table.

In pain, but still focused, Kevin turned his palm over to sprinkle the ashes in the little puddle of his own blood.

"As I said, you live by this blade and your gun, and you'll die by this blade and your gun."

After the ceremony, the men of the Price clan all went out to eat and Kevin drank himself into a stupor despite being five years under the legal drinking age.

Although he was smashed, Kevin heard and remembered the last thing his father had said to him that night on their way home.

"Listen to me son," Vinny said, placing a hand on Kevin's knee in the car. "Son or not son, smart or dim, tall or short, all that matters is your ability to earn for this family and the respect you instill in those around you. Do not disappoint me Kevin."

That request, almost a threat, lived in Kevin's heart for the next half-decade. He dedicated his life to earning the admiration and fear of those around him and doing what was best for his family.

~-~-~

A knock on Kevin's bedroom door at seven a.m. roused the man out of his sleep.

"Kevin! It's James! Get up we've got major trouble!"

A snore from next to him reminded Kevin that he still had the son of Conall McKinley naked in his bed. "Give me a minute James!" He shouted. "Connor, get up!" Kevin hissed, prodding Connor's side.

"Hmm?" Connor asked in a sleepy tone, blinking his sleep away. "G'morning."

Kevin rolled his eyes and bent down, kissing Connor deeply. "Good morning. You've gotta go, James is outside."

The urgency in Kevin's tone reached Connor and he bolted out of bed. "Where are my clothes?" He whispered.

"By the door."

Connor walked silently to the door and slid his underwear and pants on, then he pulled on his shirt and half-buttoned it up. The redhead swung his belt and tie over his shoulder and ran his fingers through Kevin's thick hair before sliding a window open and climbing out into the garden outside.

As soon as the window closed, James came bursting into the room. "Alfie and Reno are dead." He said. James stopped when he saw Kevin's boxers on the floor by his bed. "Since when do you sleep nude?"

"Um, just trying something new."

"Whatever, that's your business. Davises are killing our boys, we got fucking massacred this morning."

Kevin used his sheet like a towel and climbed out of bed, get me a car, I'm going to see that son of a bitch.

~-~-~

Kevin didn't bother knocking on Frank Davis' front door, he shot the doorknob twice before kicking in the expensive French doors. A maid approached Kevin angrily but lost her spunk when he pointed his gun at her. "Frank. Now."

The frightened woman shook her head defiantly.

"Don't be a hero." Kevin growled.

She lunged for the gun and Kevin closed his eyes before shooting her in the chest three times. The maid's body crumpled to the polished marble floor and Kevin stepped over her corpse without a single thought.

He found Frank in a large bathtub filled with bubbles and floating candles. Kevin pointed his gun at Frank's head. "Out of the tub." He barked, tossing the man a towel.

Frank looked at Kevin in pure horror, as if he'd never had a gun pointed at him before. "Who are you?" He asked fearfully.

"Don't play games with me Frank, out of the damn tub!"

"I don't know you!"

"Oh yeah? You don't know me? Well you're gonna get to know my gun if you don't get your pampered ass up and in that towel."

With shaking hands, Frank got up and wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping out of the tub. "Who are you?" He asked again.

"Shut the hell up with that, Frank!" Kevin cried. "My boys are dying! Why the hell are your bitch-ass footmen slaughtering Price boys!?"

"Who are the Price boys?"

"God dammit Frank!"

Kevin heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him and he froze. "Put down the gun Kevin." A voice said.

Kevin bent down and placed his gun on the floor before standing up slowly and putting his hands where his attacker could see them.

"Kick the gun behind you."

There was no way that Kevin was giving his beloved gun to someone else's hands so he kicked it in front of him instead. The weapon skittered across the bathroom floor, stopping in front of a very confused Frank's feet.

"Pick up the gun dad." The voice said. Dad. It was Carlo.

A defiant grin passed onto Kevin's face and he turned around slowly, hands still up, to face Carlo. "Put the gun down Carlo, you're not going to use it."

Carlo's shaking hands gave away his reluctance but his face was determined. "You don't know that."

"Then shoot me."

"I-I-"

"Shoot me you son of a bitch!" Kevin practically screamed. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and pressed it against his own chest forcefully. "Pull the damn trigger!"

Carlo's finger tightened on the trigger but he still didn't shoot. Kevin swatted his hands away and took the gun, he pointed it up at the ceiling and fired four times, emptying it before handing it back to Carlo. "Give me back my gun vecchio uomo." Kevin snapped, tearing his tommy gun out of Frank's hands.

Using his gun, Kevin herded Carlo and Frank out of the bathroom and into an office. "C'mon boys, let's have a chat."


	12. Ten

The Davis men were shoved into an office at gunpoint by Kevin Price. He locked the door three different ways and motioned for his hostages to have a seat on a leather couch.

"Now Frank, this is the last time I'll ask you calmly, why are my boys getting gunned down by Davises?"

"I don't know who you are!" Frank exclaimed.

"That's it! You're gettin' a bullet in your head!" Kevin grabbed Frank's arm and yanked him up roughly.

"Wait don't! Stop!" Carlo cried, jumping up and pulling his father away from Kevin. "Please!"

"What is he doing!? Why is he pretending to not know me!?"

Carlo raised his hands up submissively, wary of the loaded gun in Kevin's hands. "He really doesn't know you. He has Alzheimer's... sometimes he doesn't even know me." Carlo sounded extremely strained and saddened, but Kevin rejected any feelings of sympathy.

"Since when?"

"It's been a few years now."

Carlo's mother had died during a driveby shooting that started a full blown war between the five families, his father was all he had and now that man didn't even know who he was.

"Well if Frank can't help me then you need to step up and start talking. My boys are dying, Carlo, and I'm fucking pissed."

"Please put down the gun."

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Okay." Carlo looked incredibly nervous as he stared down the barrel of Kevin's gun, glimpsing the bullet settled inside. "Some of our men said they saw you and Connor McKinley together."

Flashbacks of last night filled Kevin's mind and he shifted from foot-to-foot. "They saw us doing what?" He asked.

"Our associates saw you two in a car together with the package."

"I was giving him a ride Carlo. He's small, he couldn't defend himself for shit and your men were on his tail for that package. I wanted it to get to the dock safely because I wasn't going to let anything jeopardize our break into Puerto Rico. There was nothing shady or underhanded going on at all."

"No offense, Mr. Price, but your family kind of runs the games on shady and underhanded."

"Call Connor McKinley, he'll vouch for me, but that's not the point. If one more of my boys dies because of a Davis, I swear to God I'll burn your fucking house down. Do you understand?"

Carlo nodded and watched Kevin leave the office.

~-~-~

The Sunday after talking to Carlo, Kevin stood in a front row pew at St. Mathias Roman Catholic Church. Two caskets were up on the altar and a priest read the deceased their last rights.

Women and children sniffled and wept silently in the pews but all the men were forbidden to shed tears unless they were immediate relatives of the passed. Kevin's long coat kept him warm in the chilly church and he clasped his gloved hands together in front of him. He didn't really care all that much about the two stiffs, but he was the boss and his men needed to think he cared.

~-~-~

"You what!?" Conall McKinley shouted.

"I got us Puerto Rico."

"No! You fucked up! Now they'll see you as some kind of footman, a delivery boy! I've been building up your image into boss material and you go and run petty errands!?" Conall had returned to the country last night and his consigliere filled him on what he missed, including Connor's little stint with the Davis Family.

"I was just trying to help!"

"Well you didn't!"

"Father please if I could just-"

"Get out of my office Connor."

"Father-"

"Now."

Connor walked out of Conall's office with his fists clenched and tears stinging at his eyes. Furiously he ran his fingers roughly through his hair on his way to his bedroom. Connor slammed his door and popped open a bottle of wine that he'd gotten from Kevin and took a swig straight out of the bottle before collapsing back onto his bed.

Through the thin floor Connor could hear Conall shouting at one of his capos downstairs. He sighed and rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. Connor felt like he needed to talk to somebody but he didn't have any real friends.

Cathal was out doing who-knows-what and he probably wouldn't understand anyway, Kevin was the boss of another family and his relationship with Connor seemed purely physical at the moment, and Connor's mother would just side with Conall.

Eventually, Connor's own pitiful thoughts lulled him to sleep.

The next morning, Connor was woken up by a gunshot downstairs. He got up and took the stairs down two at a time to find Kevin Price, Carlo Davis, his father, and Donnie Neeley in the living room. A young man was lying on the floor of the living room clutching his bloody thigh, he'd been shot.

Donnie stepped forward and put his foot on the young man's chest, shoving him back against the ground. "Puerto Rico, huh? Well I'm no geographer but I'm pretty sure Russia ain't Puerto Rico buddy."

"Please Mr. Neeley, you don't understand!" The man wailed.

"Oh I understand just fine, we hired you to break a market for us but you got an intervening opportunity with the Russian scum that's trying to run us out of this city."

"Please I-"

"I- I- I-. Oh shut the hell up, be a man and take the fall for what you did." Donnie snapped in a mocking tone.

Conall placed a hand on his hip in the exact position that would draw attention to the gun tucked into his waistband. "Kevin, how is it that your family punishes greedy two-timing punks?" He asked.

"String 'em up by their ankles and beat the shit out of them Conall, thanks for asking." Kevin replied.

"Please no! Mr. Price no!"

Donnie shrugged and took his foot off of the man's chest. "Well us Neeleys punish greed by giving you exactly what you want, thousands of dollars, and then we shoot you in the face before we hand it over."

The four men crossed their arms and looked down at the bloody, whimpering, simpleton that was crying below them. When Kevin spotted a tear slide down the man's cheek he rolled his eyes and snapped a finger. James Church stepped out of a shadowy corner of the room with zipties in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

"I've had enough of this rifiuti patetico di spazio, string him up James." Kevin said darkly.

James smiled and snapped the rope loudly, earning him a whimper from the man. He grabbed his victim's injured leg roughly and dragged him out of the room like a lion dragging away a gazelle. Gauze bandages were distributed amongst the four men as they wrapped up their knuckles in preparation to give a beating. Kevin glanced over and noticed Connor sitting on the stairs, he gave him a small nod which Connor returned, making Kevin smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Carlo asked.

"Just excited to teach a traitor a lesson."


	13. Eleven

The four bosses beat the traitorous fence to death, nobody seemed to have noticed, but every single punch that Carlo Davis threw was fake.

After the bosses finished, they stepped back to admire their handiwork on the corpse hanging upside down in front of them. Kevin slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out an old brown leather wallet. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and stuffed it into the fence's mouth. "Heavenly Father punishes the greedy, you filthy son of a bitch."

Conall did the sign of the cross and asked God for forgiveness for what he had just done.

Then, business continued as usual.

The body was dumped in Pelham Bay Park by Cathal and nobody spoke of the incident again.

~-~-~

"What are you doing tonight?"

Connor idly twirled the phone cord around his finger and laid on his bed. "Nothing much, just trying to avoid my father."

It had been a few weeks since the fence's death and Kevin and Connor met a few more times in secret. Their affair quickly grew into more than just sex. They called one another secretly throughout the day and night and unbeknownst to them, a real, healthy relationship was starting to blossom.

"I wish we could go out and do things." Kevin said softly.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just things."

"Well we can't, because you're a murderous mob boss and I'm the son of your public rival."

"I know, it's kinda like Romeo and Juliet when you think about it."

"I'm not Juliet."

"Well I'm certainly not Juliet."

Connor rolled his eyes even though his lover couldn't see them. "What about Romeo and Benvolio instead?"

"Aren't they cousins?"

"God, Kevin! Romeo and Mercutio then!"

"Fine, I like that one. I wanna be Mercutio."

"Whatever, I have to go okay?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight Kevin."

"Goodnight Connor."

Connor hung up the phone and rolled onto his back. He smiled up at the ceiling, thinking about Kevin. He appreciated Kevin's existence because, unlike other people, Kevin actually understood what it was like to be Connor. Sure, Connor could relate to other gay men, mafiosos, and men with powerful fathers, but Kevin understood the whole package because it was his struggle too.

~-~-~

A few hours after hanging up with Connor, Kevin got up from his desk and walked out across his office. He noticed two foot shadows through the crack under the oak doors and approached them silently. Kevin swung the door open to reveal James and Chris standing outside.

Chris crossed his arms. "Who ya talkin' to boss?"

"Nobody."

"Kevin, it's my job as your consigliere to know every one of your emotions and lately you haven't been right in the head."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked, putting on an innocent face.

"For the last couple weeks you've been making late night trips." James said.

"I already told you two, I was going to the firms to scope things out and check on the progress with our swung juries."

Chris sighed. "None of our lawyers have seen you around Kevin. I made calls."

"That's not your job Chris."

"My job is to make sure that you don't fuck up this family!"

"Oh yeah? Last time I checked, you were Christopher Thomas, not Christopher Price." Kevin snapped. His remark stung Chris like a bee and he was dumbfounded as Kevin pushed passed him into the hallway.

James grabbed Kevin's wrist tightly and stopped him mid-step. "Kevin what's wrong with you? You know we lost a case yesterday, right?"

Kevin certainly didn't know about the lost case, but he wasn't going to throw a bone to James by admitting that. "Yes I knew!" Kevin said with an acidic tinge to his voice before stomping off and into his bedroom.

In his room, Kevin locked the door and swatted a lamp off of his dresser. It shattered against the floor and sparked before dying. The phone on Kevin's bedside table rang and he shuffled over to it.

"Hello?" He said tiredly.

"Kevin," Connor sniffed on the other line and his voice shook. "Kevin I need you."

"What's the matter?" Kevin asked worriedly.

"I- I just can't do this anymore."

"Connor please, what's going on?"

"I just can't do it. I'm not strong enough Kevin."

"Strong enough for what!? Please Connor, tell me what's happening to you." Kevin begged.

"Meet me in Pelham, outside Sue's." Connor hung up after the cryptic invitation and Kevin wasted no time in grabbing his coat and shoes and walking out the front door.

In the driveway, James and Chris saw Kevin get into his private car, that he almost never used, and take off down the road.

"Where's he going?" Chris wondered aloud.

"Who gives a fuck?" James replied, lighting a cigarette and cupping his hand over the flame.

"I do. I'm his chief advisor and lately he hasn't been himself. Thank Heavenly Father that he hasn't had to make any important decisions recently."

"Heavenly Father? You've been spending to much time with Prices." James sniggered.

"Oh shut-up, you godless heathen." Chris said, nudging James' side playfully.

~-~-~

Kevin pulled up outside of "Sue's Corner", a little shop in Pelham Village, a small town run by the mafia. He parallel parked on the curb and got out of his car and followed sounds of crying to the alley next to the shop.

Kevin found Connor sitting and leaning against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. His head was buried between his knees and his body was wracked with sobs and shivers.

"Hey, stop this." Kevin said softly, crouching down next to him and placing a hand on the other man's back. "What's wrong Connor?"

Connor looked up and Kevin gasped when he saw a large purple bruise around his left eye.

"What happened!?"

"I found out today that my father does a bimonthly phone records check."

"And?"

"And he saw my calls to the Price Estate so he called me some names and hit me."

"Quel pezzo di merda fottuto bastardo. Chi diavolo si crede di essere? Scusa povero dannato per un padre cazzo." Kevin grumbled.

"What?" Connor asked, frustrated with his alienating Irish heritage.

"Don't worry about it. You know I'm here for you, right?" Kevin asked, wiping a tear from Connor's cheek.

"Yeah Kevin, but for how long? How long till one of us gets caught in a drive-by, or goes into witness protection, or gets arrested? This," Connor motioned between him and Kevin. "can't last forever."

"Yes it can."

"No it can't."

Kevin slapped a hand on the wall next to Connor's head and looked at him with determined glare. "I'll make it last." He said before slamming his lips onto Connor's and biting his lower lip, eliciting a moan from the redhead.

"Kevin please, not here." Connor breathed. He gave in though when he felt Kevin's fingers drift down to toy with the waistband of his pants. Connor grabbed Kevin by his coat and hoisted him up before flipping their positions and pressing the other man against the wall. In their past relations, Kevin had usually been the more dominant one so Connor's burst of confidence came as a surprise.

"What are you-" Kevin was cut off by a moan as Connor rubbed a hand across the front of his pants.

"Let me take care of things tonight, I've had a shitty past few hours."

"Mhmm." Kevin said, nodding wildly as Connor began palming him through his suit pants as he kissed him, driving Kevin mad.

He began to buck into Connor's hand subconsciously and Connor enjoyed hearing his name tumble out of Kevin's mouth in a string of profanities and vowel sounds. "Ready for more?"

Kevin nodded as Connor undid his pants and dropped to the ground, taking the clothing down with him.

Without warning, Connor took as much of Kevin as he could into his mouth and swallowed hard. Kevin moaned loudly and gripped the wall behind him, searching for support. Eventually, he found stability by wrapping his fingers in Connor's hair and guiding the redhead's motions.

They went on like that until Connor let out a moan that vibrated in his throat and threatened to send Kevin tumbling over the edge. "Oh my god, Connor I can't. I'm close-" Connor swallowed again and Kevin came hard and fast.

Pulling away, Connor coughed and swallowed as much as he could before laying back on the concrete and closing his eyes. Kevin was still pressed against the wall, coming down from his high. He pulled his pants back up and belted them, then he got on his hands and knees and crawled onto Connor.

"Connor?"

"Hmm?"

"Need me to return the favor?"

"Not tonight, that was enough for me."

Kevin obliged and settled down on top of his lover, kissing him deeply and holding his head in place as Kevin moved on top of him. "You're perfect okay?" He whispered, kissing down Connor's neck. "Your father doesn't know a good thing when it's right in front of him."

Connor pulled Kevin up and kissed him hard on the mouth, Kevin moaned when he tasted himself on Connor's lips. "Kevin I think I might love you." Connor said when they broke apart for air. Kevin sat up on his knees, straddling Connor's waist, and looked down at him. "You do?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Kevin gripped Connor's shoulders and pulled him up into a sitting position. Now seated in Connor's lap, Kevin smoothed out his red hair absently and kissed his forehead. "I love you too."


	14. Twelve

Connor leaned up against the alley wall with Kevin next to him. The younger man was asleep, his face nuzzled up on Connor's shoulder. Absently, Connor traced shapes onto the back of Kevin's hand with his thumb.

Kevin let out a little snore and Connor stifled a laugh. He wondered why Kevin had chosen him, there was certainly no shortage of gay men in New York but nevertheless, Kevin Price chose Connor McKinley to make his own.

A circle of light dashed across the wall and Connor jolted. "Kevin." He hissed. "Kevin get up, someone's here."

Kevin snapped to attention and yanked Connor up, shoving him against the wall roughly. He raised a fist as if he was about to punch the older man and he had a frightening fire in his eyes. "I told you not talk to my lawyers, McKinley!" Kevin shouted. Connor finally realized what Kevin was doing and he played along.

"Fuck you Kevin, I'll do what I want." He snapped.

Chris and James came around the corner and stopped in their tracks when they saw Kevin and Connor. The scene before them seemed to add up pretty cut and dry, Kevin's drawn fist, Connor's black eye, it all seemed normal.

"What's going on here?" Chris asked.

Kevin let go of Connor's shirt and shoved him backwards. "Just looking into some leads on our lost case." He said, smoothing out his shirt.

James used his gun to gesture at Kevin's crotch. "Your fly is down, killer." He said pointedly. Kevin zipped up his pants and cursed himself for not paying attention before.

Luckily, in the dark, neither James nor Chris noticed Connor blushing. "Let's go Kevin." Chris said, motioning towards the idling car around the corner. Kevin looked back at Connor, then followed his men back to their car.

~-~-~

James sat in his car outside 'Firthwin & Meyer', one of the Price family's many law firms on payroll.

It had been discovered that Dick Meyer was paid to lose the case and he got a hit put on him almost instantly. With his feet up on the dashboard, James drank from a little sliver flask that he kept in his belt and watched the door.

Dick came out of the office with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase clutched in one hand. "Game time." James grunted, pulling his feet down from the dash and opening the car door. "Dick! Wait up a hot minute!" He exclaimed in a friendly tone, jogging up to the lawyer.

"James! Um, hello! What can I do for you?" Dick asked nervously, feigning cheer.

James shrugged and walked alongside the man. "Nothing much, I just came to ask when you turned into a backstabbing liar."

"Pardon?"

"We know it was you who swung the case, Dick."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about son."

"Don't son me, I'm not here to be your son."

"What are you here to do?"

"I'm here to kill you."

James grabbed Dick's wrists and pinned them against the man's upper back, then he dragged him behind the law firm. He shoved the pudgy lawyer up against a brick wall and began ruthlessly punching his face. James heard skull bones cracking and blood sprayed on his face and the wall. "We gave you this firm!" James shouted between swings.

"We made you everything you are today! And what do you do? You betray us for money!" James kneed up into Dick's crotch, causing the man to collapse to the floor in agony. "This is why you don't give privilege to a poor man." James muttered, kicking Dick in the side of his head, effectively smashing his skull in.

The lawyer lay on the ground in a pool of blood that was spilling from his head. He was choking on a damaged, blood-filled windpipe and his eyes were glassy. James pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and jammed it down Dick's throat. "Have fun in hell douchebag." He said before turning on his heels and walking away, leaving the other man to die on the ground behind him.

~-~-~

Sitting in his living room, Connor listened to his mother and father argue back and forth.

"How dare you hit my boy, Conall!" Aideen McKinley shouted.

"He's a lying son-of-bitch!" Conall realized what he'd just said and he cowered back a bit. "N-not that you're a-"

"What. The. Fuck. Did you just say to me?" Aideen asked in an eerily calm tone.

"That's not what I meant, all I meant was-"

"That I'm a bitch? I'll show you a bitch Conall!" Aideen screamed, grabbing a large book off the coffee table. She began whacking her cowering husband with the book while Connor watched and tried not to laugh.

Connor's little sister, Iona, toddled into the room and climbed up onto her brother's lap. Connor stroked the four-year-old's curly red hair as they watched their parents fight. Iona turned her little head and focused her bright blue eyes on her big brother. "Why are Mommy and Father fighting?" She asked.

"Father did a bad thing and made Mommy upset."

Iona reached up and touched the fading bruise around Connor's eye. "Did he do this?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, because I did a silly thing and I wasn't careful."

"Oh, I'm sorry Connor." Iona said sadly. She turned around on her brother's lap and kissed his cheekbone where the bruise extended. "Does it hurt still?" She asked.

Connor shook his head. "Nope, I'm all better."

Iona smiled brightly and turned her attention back to her dueling parents.


	15. Thirteen

Chris sat in Kevin's office and propped his feet up on an ottoman. He watched his boss do one-handed push-ups on the floor. "Kevin can we please focus?" Chris begged.

"Not now Chris."

"If we don't talk about this now we could get into trouble with the Feds."

The mention of federal officers roused Kevin's attention and he rolled over to sit on the carpet, propping his arms behind him. "Okay Chris, what's going on."

"James has been on too many hits; the Feds have got his name linked to thirty suspicious deaths and disappearances in the last eighteen months."

"What do you suggest I do? Do they have enough to haul him in?"

"They can't take James in yet because of connections I've got at city hall, but you need to put him on a short leash, Kevin. No more contracts for James, not for at least a year or two."

Kevin sighed and ran his fingers though his hair. "He's my best hitman, I can't put a capo on probation."

"It's not probation, don't say that to James, he'll lose it. He's gotta move his operation into a sleeper cell or be replaced as capo."

James Church's regime had been fondly nicknamed "Murder, Inc." because of their ridiculously high body count and squeaky clean track record. Kevin wouldn't dare shut down such a profitable branch of his family operation, he especially didn't want all of those bored, probated relatives and associates hanging around the estate.

"What if I 'promote' James or give him some bogus new job here at the estate?"

"That could work. Is the aim here to keep Murder, Inc. up and running?"

"Yep."

"They won't be the same without James' leadership."

"I know."

~-~-~

After a week of combing through James' files and career with the family Kevin decided to promote the man to Capo Bastone, or Underboss.

Kevin figured that James' reckless lifestyle would catch up to him one day and he'd be long dead before Kevin ever needed a permanent replacement.

~-~-~

On a rainy Tuesday, James trudged up the slick grassy front lawn of Kevin's stately home for an early morning meeting. He found Kevin seated at the desk in Vinny's office.

"Hey boss." James said with a nod as he shrugged off his large, wet grey coat and tossed it over a chair. "What's the damage today?" He asked, spinning a chair around and sitting in it backwards. He rested his arms on the chair's back and looked at Kevin.

"James, you've been with the family for as long as I have. I grew up with you and watched you grow from a cranky impulsive kid to a cranky impulsive man."

James snorted at the half-compliment, but he could deny it either.

"I'm stripping you of your caporegime title." Kevin said.

James' eyes widened and he looked as if he was going to pass out. "Kevin you can't; this is all I know! Is this because I shot out the windows of that bowling alley? The bookies were in there! I promise!"

"No James, I'm not chasing you, I'm promoting you."

"What?"

"If I were to offer you the position of Capo Bastone, would you accept?"

"In a heartbeat sir."

"Then you've got the position."

"What about Murder, Inc.?" James asked, trying to sort his priorities.

"I'll take care of that with a Thomas, do you accept the position James?"

"Yessir."

~-~-~

"James today I need you to... um, watch my office."

"What?"

"I need you to watch the office and search it for bugs."

"Kevin that sounds like a load of crap."

"Well it's a big deal James."

James rolled his eyes and began searching through Kevin's bookshelves for listening devices and hidden cameras. For the last week and a half, Kevin had been busying James with petty tasks that were fool's work and he could see his friend getting stir crazy.

Chris was also crawling out of his skin because of James' gloomy presence around the estate. After Kevin left the house, James abandoned his fruitless search and plopped down next to Chris on the couch.

"I'm bored." He whined.

"Hi bored, I'm Chris."

"Shut the hell up." James snapped, eliciting a laugh from the blonde. "What's the point of being Underboss? Isn't Kevin supposed to teach me stuff?"

"He is teaching you."

"Oh yeah, what? How to make a fool of myself by sniffing around his office for two days?"

"No, patience, and I gotta say, you're failing miserably."

"Ugh, whatever." James said, sitting up and pulling his gun out of his pants.

"Where do you keep that?" Chris asked.

"That's for me to know and you to wonder about."

James began wiping down the barrel of his beloved Remington with a throw blanket. When he finished cleaning his gun, James fell asleep.

That was how his days went from now on. Argue with Kevin, bother Chris, clean his gun, nap, repeat. If he didn't get some field action soon, James was going to explode.


	16. Fourteen

It had been almost six weeks since James' "promotion", and he was slowly going insane. He stared out the window like a lonely dog in heat, only James wasn't looking for a mate, he wanted prey.

In Vinny's office, James contented himself with practicing drawing his gun like John Wayne in those old cowboy movies that he loved as a kid.

As boys, Kevin and Chris never got into Wild West movies like James did. He wanted nothing more than to be a gun slinging, bandit shooting, horseback riding, Texas sheriff. 

Adult James would've made little James proud. He was an expert marksman, he emptied magazines into the bodies of those who wronged his cause on a daily basis, he drove fast cars in drive-bys and getaways, and although he didn't fight for the "good guys", he fought nonetheless.

James had taken to lounging around on the couches in Vinny's office while Kevin was out, pestering Chris or just napping. James' disposition wasn't much different from that of a cat's.

~-~-~

One chilly afternoon, James sat on the leacher couch opposite Chris and chewed at his nails.

James looked over at the small, blonde man pouring over papers in the briefcase he had open in his lap. Chris chewed on a pen and James watched him hungrily, worrying his lip a bit.

Chris' tongue darted out to wet his lips and James shifted in his seat.

"You okay James?" Chris asked, looking up.

"Oh yeah, swell."

"Hmm, okay."

Chris returned to his work, brushing some hair aside on his forehead. James watched every move Chris made and he could feel his pants growing tighter with arousal. He always knew he had feelings more powerful than friendship for the other man, and now seemed as good a time as any to act upon them.

Brushing his fingers through his dark brown hair, James stood up and went to sit next to Chris. Thankfully, the other man didn't notice the state that James was currently in.

"What are you working on?" James asked, moving closer to the blonde, just enough so that their legs were pressed against one another.

Chris swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. "Um, it's just, um, some tax stuff for Kevin. Wouldn't want him to go the way of Capone would we?" He said with an awkward laugh. Chris' joke fell short on his audience, probably because his audience wanted to fuck him.

"Mhmm that would suck." James said, reaching out to smooth Chris' shirt collar.

"What are you doing?"

"Just fixing your shirt." James began unbuttoning the white collared shirt.

"No, you're taking it off."

"Do you have a problem with it?" James asked, pulling his hand away.

"I- ... no."

"Then may I continue?"

"Please."

James smiled wolfishly and finished unbuttoning Chris' shirt. Underneath his shirt, Chris wasn't much to look at, he was thinnish and pale-ish, and James absolutely adored every inch of him. James rubbed his hand along Chris' chest, his warm hands creating sparks in the other man's body.

"James what are we doing?" Chris asked.

"Just relaxing."

"Okay." Chris began unbuttoning James' shirt enjoying the sight of his toned, tan chest beneath. "Oh my god." He breathed. James was the epitome of professionalism in his field, that meant he was always a sharp dresser and Chris hadn't seen him shirtless since they were kids at Kevin's pool.

James continued running his hands along Chris' exposed skin, he leaned forward to whisper into the blonde's ear. "You can touch if you want."

Chris groaned and placed his hands on James' shoulders, "James-" He was cut off when he saw James' arousal through his suit pants. "Oh my god, is that from me?"

"Oh yes." James growled, lowering himself onto Chris and kissing and biting at the man's neck. "James, please, we can't-" James bit down on Chris' shoulder and he yelped at the pleasure-pain. "We're in Kevin's office, he'll catch us."

A swift lick up Chris' neck stopped all of his denials and he moaned, letting himself fall back onto the couch. His briefcase and tax papers tumbled to the floor and Chris squeezed his eyes shut to keep his moans and groans at bay while James attacked his neck.

"Kiss me Christopher." James begged.

Chris grabbed James' shoulders and yanked him up into a wet open-mouthed kiss. James' mouth tasted like the cheap whiskey he survived on, and somehow, Chris knew that was what he'd taste like. Chris could feel himself getting harder with each movement of his lips on James'.

"Want me to take care of that?" James asked, breaking free from the kiss and gesturing to Chris' growing arousal.

"Take care of it?"

James rolled his eyes and undid Chris' belt, he was watched the entire time as he slid the other man's pants and undergarments down his legs and tossed them onto the floor.

Feeling exposed and insecure, Chris pulled his legs up to his chest uncomfortably. James put a hand on Chris' knee and looked into his bright green eyes. "Chris please, just let me love you okay?"

Chris nodded, taken aback by the gentle tone in James' voice and the excited glint in his olive green eyes.

It was then that Chris received the first and best blowjob of his entire life, and his best friend since childhood had given it to him.

When Chris finally came over the edge James swallowed hard before moving back up and kissing Chris roughly. One of his hands found its way into Chris' blonde hair and he used that to anchor himself into reality.

Through the kiss, Chris could see James' arousal straining at his pants and he reached down to palm him through the fabric. James pulled back from the kiss and moaned out Chris' name, dropping his head to rest on Chris' shoulder as the friction increased.

Involuntarily, James began bucking into Chris' palm. Chris loosened up James' belt just a bit before shoving his hand into his pants and pumping James' dick fervently.

James let out a long low moan and begged Chris to go faster and faster; he lasted an impressively long time before he came all over Chris' hand and his own pants.

Chris pulled his hand out of James' pants and grabbed some tissues from the box on Kevin's desk. He started cleaning off his and James' chests, his hand, and the leather couch.

"What was that James?" Chris asked hoarsely.

"I told you, I get bored." James said matter-of-factly before getting up and leaving the room with his shirt still off and his belt undone.

~-~-~

"Hey ma would you shut up?" Kevin snapped at his mother.

The large Italian woman slammed her fork onto the table and reached out to grab her son's ear. She twisted Kevin's ear in her tight grip as he yelped in pain and slapped the table.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He wailed.

"Don't speak to me like that again Kevin Scott Price."

"I'm sorry mamma! Please let go!" Kevin begged.

Georgia Price let go of her son's ear and resumed eating the lasagne she had made. Kevin had snapped before because of Georgia's "no business talk at the dinner table rule".

"I don't want to hear about that shit at my table."

She was a formidable woman with an iron will and an experienced hand when it came to disciplining her three children.

At the table was Kevin, Georgia, Kevin's brother Jack, Kevin's sister Celia and Chris. James usually ate with them as well but he didn't show up to dinner for some reason. Kevin was worried; keeping James in didn't serve to mellow him out at all. If anything, James was more impulsive now than he was before.

Vinny's empty seat at the head opposite Georgia carried it's looming presence throughout dinner.

As dessert was being eaten, James came barreling into the dining room.

Kevin stood up when he saw James. His face was streaked with tears and he was covered in blood and bits of bone. He collapsed into Kevin's arms and sobbed loudly.

"James, what's wrong?" Kevin asked. The man in his arms looked up at him. James' green eyes were pink from crying and his usually neatly shaped hair was matted against his skull, sticky with someone else's blood.

"I killed him Kevin. You told me not to kill anymore, but he hit her again and I couldn't take it."

"Who did you kill James?" Jack asked, standing next to his brother.

James looked over at Jack, then at Georgia, then back up at Kevin.

"My father."


	17. Fifteen

Georgia helped James wash his father's gore out of his hair and clothing. The woman practically raised James Church and she considered him and Chris sons.

"Tell me what happened James." She said, drawing the young man a bath and handing him a towel as he stripped in the bathroom.

"Godmother, I don't know."

Georgia helped James into the hot bathwater and sat down next to the tub. She began picking bits of bone and gray matter out of his hair.

"What did you see? What did you do?"

James swallowed hard and splashed some water onto his face before looking over at Kevin's mother.

"I shot my father in the head." A haunted, hollow look swallowed up James' features and he seemed to be staring somewhere far off. "I went to their apartment to get something from my old bedroom and I saw him drinking. I ignored him and kissed my mother hello, then I went into my room and shut the door. When I came out of my room with the gun I came home to get I saw my mother in the kitchen. She was putting a dish away but it fell out of her hand and broke, then my father came out of the living room and started yelling and cursing at her. He waved his empty beer bottle around and when my mother told him to calm down he hit her with it until it broke against her skin. When the bottle broke, my father undid his belt and a starting belting my own mother right in front of me. Then, I-" James choked on his words. "I shot him."

Georgia used a sponge to wash the dried blood from James' broad, muscular shoulders and she massaged soap into his sticky hair.

"Mi dispiace, il mio amore." She said gently.

After he was thoroughly cleaned and checked for injuries by Mrs. Price, James wrapped himself in a towel and sat alone on the bathroom floor and cried. In his short life, James had killed more people than he could remember but this, this was different. For hours, James sat in a puddle of water on the tile floor and sobbed grossly.

A few times, he heard quiet voices outside the door but they always left him alone.

When he had mostly calmed down, James put on his freshly cleaned clothing and stepped out of the bathroom. He walked into the living room and saw Kevin and Chris sitting on the couch.

"James we're gonna take care of this." Kevin said. James had killed a made man and a member of his own crime family, he could get chased or whacked for this if he wasn't in with the boss.

"I want you to take his body to the Hudson." James said, remembering one time as a boy when his father had threatened to drown him in that river.

"Okay, Chris get it done."

Chris got up and walked over to the phone, he made a call and it was done.

"Who's taking care of it?" James asked.

"My cousin Ricky."

"Tell him I'll meet him at the apartment." James said, grabbing his coat and walking out of the grand house.

~-~-~

James' story about shooting his father in the head turned out to be a gross understatement. When he and Ricky arrived at the apartment, there wasn't much left of Benino Church.

The white cabinets where splattered with blood and bone crunched under Ricky's boots as he walked.

Ricky Thomas was the family's number one clean-up man when it came to messy crime scenes, but even he was horrified at what he was seeing.

"James, I think you oughta tell me the truth about what happened here." He said.

James pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. "Fine, I didn't just shoot him. I pulled him off my mom and told her to leave, then I started beating him. I smashed a few of his beer bottles over his head and cracked his skull then I started punching him and kicking him." James' voice raised an octave and started cracking.

"And punching him and kicking him, and punching him and kicking him, and punching him and..." James shook his head to clear himself out of his funk. "It felt like I wasn't doing it; it felt like I was watching someone else's fists kill my father. That was twenty-two years of rage that I let out on his skull."

Ricky shrugged. "Well now it's twenty-two years of rage that you have to help me clean off these cabinets."


	18. Sixteen

Kevin, Chris, and James stood on the bank of the Hudson River. Kevin had his hands jammed in his coat pockets as wind and rain whipped him.

Just out of Kevin's line of sight, Chris held James' hand as they watched crate filled with, what was left of, his father get chained to a cinderblock and dumped into the sloshing brown water.

Benino Church was sleeping with the fishes now and could no longer hurt his family, but for some reason, James didn't feel much better.

He let go of Chris' hand and walked over to the tall, solemn figure that was Kevin Price. Their long wool coats flapped in the wind and Kevin grabbed James in a large hug. "I'm so sorry James."

"Thanks. I need a hit."

"James-"

"Please Kevin, I'm losing it. I can't sit around your house anymore, Chris told me about the Feds and I'm willing to risk it."

"Why did Chris tell you?"

"Let's say I caught him in a compromising position, but that doesn't matter. I need a hit Kevin, I'm losing it. I've been trying to replace my urges with other things like target practice and sex but-"

"Wait, who have you been having sex with?"

"Oh, Chris. Anyway-"

"Chris!?"

"Yeah, that's what is said, anyway I need a contract, just one. Please. I need to kill somebody, it's just- just- just who I am! I killed my own father four hours ago! Please Kevin, I'm begging you."

Kevin ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Okay James, I'll check the black book and see who's got a hit on them."

"Thank you."

~-~-~

It was Cathal who first told Connor about what James Church had done. Two days after the actual murder, everyone, even the empty suits, knew.

One night, a few weeks after the incident, Kevin crawled through Connor's bedroom window and the two of them snuggled on Connor's bed.

"James has been sleeping with Chris." Kevin said suddenly.

Connor lifted his head up from Kevin's shoulder and looked at him. "Really? Good for them."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda knew."

"You did?"

"Since they were teenagers they'd had something more, something that younger me was subconsciously jealous of, I guess.

"Well now you don't have to be jealous."

Kevin smiled and laced his fingers with Connor's, breathing deeply in content.

"I love you Connor."

"I love you too."

Connor fell asleep on Kevin and he rested comfortably for an hour before Kevin shook him awake. "Connor, someone's at the door. Get rid of them." He whispered.

Connor got up and trudged over to the door, he opened it a crack to see Cathal standing in the hallway. "C'mon let's go out."

"No Cathal, I'm sleeping."

"I found a strip club that hasn't banned mafiosos yet, let's go before they realize their mistake!" Cathal tried to get into the room but Connor blocked him.

"Um, you can't come in right now."

"Why not?"

"My room isn't presentable."

"Presentable?"

Kevin knew the situation was heading south quickly and he slipped his shirt back on, cursing Connor's adorable push-over attitude and lack of upper-body strength. Cathal shouldered his way into the room faster than Kevin anticipated and he was forced to dive into Connor's closet.

He couldn't hear Connor and Cathal through the door but Kevin almost gave himself away when he looked over and gasped at the sight of a little girl sitting across from him on the closet floor.

"Who are you?" Kevin whispered in confusion.

"My name is Iona."

"Iona McKinley?"

The little girl nodded her head.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I didn't wanna take a bath and I like you."

"You know who I am?"

The girl shook her head. "No, but you make my Connor very very happy and I like it when he smiles."

Kevin thought of Connor's bright, crooked smile and smiled himself. "I like it when he smiles too."

~-~-~

Donnie Neeley stood next to his fiancé in her hospital room and gripped the woman's hand.

"I love you Leslie, you know that right?" He asked his fiancé.

Leslie nodded sadly and watched the door that the doctor had taken her newborn son through. She had just given birth and there were no smiles among the doctors; they took her son away immediately with no explanation. Donnie twirled his fiancé's blonde hair around his finger and squeezed her hand. "It'll be okay, I promise it'll be okay this time."

Two years ago, Leslie had given birth to a stillborn baby girl that she named Jacqueline. Throughout this pregnancy, Leslie had reoccurring nightmares about having another stillborn child.

Donnie's heart raced and he began tapping his foot nervously. Outside in the hallway forty Michaelses, Zelderses, and Neeleys sat, waiting for news on their boss' baby.

A doctor came into the room, he was very noticeably not carrying a baby.

"Where's my son?" Donnie asked.

The doctor shook his head. "He made it out alive, but he wasn't breathing and we lost him. I'm sorry."

Leslie didn't ask any questions, she didn't even cry. She began disconnecting herself from monitors and machines. Leslie stepped out of the bed and into Donnie's arms. "I want to go home." She said.

"Don't you want to name our son?" Donnie asked. Leslie looked up into his sad gray eyes and wiped a tear from Donnie's cheek. "We don't have a son."


	19. Seventeen

James felt the cool night air on his face and he smiled, finally, he was back.

The hit Kevin had given him was a low-profile pawn shop owner who decided to boycott the mob's presence on his street. James sat on a bench outside the shop with his eyes closed and his legs stretched out in front of him.

"Hey, Chuckles, can I help you with something?" A large, gruff man asked, stepping out of the shop. "We don't got that no loitering sign for looks ya know."

James looked his game up and down. The man had weight and height on him but James wasn't the least bit intimidated, in fact, he was excited for the challenge.

"Are you the owner?" He asked.

The man squinted slightly, suspicious of James' accent, the one he shared with the other Italian mobsters in the city.

"I might be, who wants to know?"

James stood up and shook the man's hand. "James Church. You wouldn't happen to have one of those nifty Felix the Cat clocks for sale, would you?"

"I'm Ted, and yes, I think I do."

"Great, I'll take it off your hands." James followed Ted inside and stealthily locked the shop door behind him. Ted went into a back room for the clock and James leaned against the glass counter, admiring the bootleg watches displayed inside.

Ted reemerged and set the plastic clock on the counter and James grinned. "Perfect!"

"That'll be $29.95."

"Oh Ted, that simply won't do. Far too expensive for this old thing. Look, one of his eyes is broken."

Ted rolled his eyes. "This ain't an auction house ya zip, all prices are final."

James sighed dramatically and reached into his pocket, but instead of pulling his wallet out, James produced a can of mace and sprayed Ted's eyes.

Ted screamed and grabbed at his face in agony as James assaulted his eyes, he didn't let up until the can was empty then he climbed over the counter and pulled a ziptie out of his jacket. He used the ziptie to secure Ted's wrists together and drag him into the back room.

"Alright Ted, this is gonna hurt. Don't be shy about screaming, makes my job more interesting." James said coolly, his blood racing with excitement. He was back in the game, he hunted people, that was James' sport and he was finally out of retirement.

"I want to enjoy this, so we're gonna start out slow and intimate, okay?"

"Let me go you son-of-a-bitch!"

James pulled a knife out of his jacket and flicked it open. He slit Ted's cheeks first, basking in the blood-curdling scream that that earned him.

By the time James slit Ted's wrists and ended it, he had practically sliced the man into ribbons. He wiped some blood off of his hands and left the room, grabbing his clock and leaving thirty-five dollars on the counter.

"Keep the change Ted." He said on his way out of the shop.

~-~-~

"Thank you gentlemen for allowing me to organize this meeting today. I'd like to apologize for the short notice but I have a matter that has come to my attention, one that needs to be discussed presently."

Donnie Neeley stood before the godfathers and a few underbosses that he called his peers. They watched him intently, some smoking cigars as they listened.

"I'm worried about our future, the bosses need to think about our lineage, our heirs."

Kevin bit down on his cigar, squeezing some ash into his mouth. He entered a coughing fit and the other men watched him with sideways glances. Kevin didn't plan on "producing any heirs" any time soon, especially since a lover of the opposite sex was required to do so.

The only person who looked more uncomfortable than Kevin was Vito Cunningham.

"Recently, Leslie and I lost another baby and I don't think we'll be trying again anytime soon. I would like to publicly state that in the event of my sudden death, Sam Zelder will take control of my crime family."

The room erupted in whispers and questions. Donnie's underboss was Tony Michaels and usually it was the underboss who took over the family. Something was going on in the Neeley clan that the other families were in the dark about.

To be perfectly honest, nobody was too intent on getting to the bottom of it at the moment.

~-~-~

Kevin backed Connor up against his bedroom wall and rolled his hips against the other man's as he kissed him. Connor smirked and flipped their position, pressing Kevin's back against the wall. "I'm leading tonight." He growled, kissing Kevin's neck.

Kevin's head lolled back but he retained his stubborn attitude. "N-no, I wanna."

"Kevin stop, it's my turn."

"But you always take over, I want to lead tonight."

Connor broke free from Kevin and took a few steps back. "I get to run the show tonight or I leave you like that." Connor said, gesturing to the bulge in Kevin's pants. Kevin groaned and spread his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Fine, do your worst."

Connor grinned and grabbed Kevin's hands, pulling him over to the bed and pushing him backwards onto the mattress. He climbed on top of him and started undoing his belt. "Don't worry Kevin, I've got big plans for tonight."


	20. Eighteen

"Y'know, the first time I met you I thought you looked soft."

"Soft like a pushover?"

"No, soft like I want to crawl under a blanket with you and wrap my arms around you."

Connor smiled and played with Kevin's hair. "Is the tough mobster Kevin Price, with his heart of stone, asking me to cuddle?"

"Psh, no... yes."

Connor rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Kevin, nuzzling closer to him. "All you have to do is ask."

~-~-~

Leslie Neeley sat in her and Donnie's bedroom, staring at her jewelry box set on the bed in front of her. She ran her hand over the latch but she didn't open the box, whatever was inside was serious and Leslie wasn't sure if she wanted to open her own personal Pandora's Box.

She heard the door handle jiggle and she shoved the box underneath an over-stuffed feather pillow.

Donnie walked into the room. He pulled his tie off and hung it up on a hook attached to the door, then he flicked off his suspenders and let them hang down over his long legs.

"How are you honey?" He asked, kissing Leslie's forehead.

"I'm good, I've had a great morning!" Leslie exclaimed, her mood suddenly shifting in her fiancé's company.

Donnie smiled, pleased with the unexpectedly positive answer. "Wow, I'm glad to hear that!"

Leslie's face shifted, growing downcast. "Donnie, is something wrong with me?"

"What? No, why would you ask me that?" Donnie asked, sitting on the side of the bed next to Leslie.

"It's just, I feel broken, Donnie. I want to have babies, but I can't. It's my fault that we lost Jackie and our son. I'm killing our children."

Donnie could feel his heart break in his chest. His sweet, beautiful, golden-haired future wife had just pinned herself as a baby murderer. Donnie wrapped his arms around Leslie's slender shoulders. "Please don't say things like that, Les. I love you so much and I know you loved our children."

"Apparently I didn't love them enough." Leslie said, crawling off the bed and walking into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

~-~-~

The sound of her parents arguing filled Iona's little ears as she sat in the kitchen and colored. She was drawing a picture of Connor and his new husband Mr. Price. The little girl had no concept of dating yet so she simply assumed that this handsome new friend that Connor liked to kiss was his husband.

Although she was small, Iona could tell that her father was a complicated man and she knew well enough to hide the drawing when he came stomping into the kitchen.

"What are you drawing Iona?" Conall asked, sitting across from his daughter at the table. Iona slipped a drawing of a kitten over her picture of Connor and Mr. Price.

"I'm drawing a cat, Father."

Conall reached out to pick up the picture and look at it; Iona immediately rested her little elbows over the picture beneath it.

"This is very good." Conall nodded in approval. "You've got a lot of talent mo chailín beag."

"Go raibh maith agat, Father."

Conall smiled and stood up. He patted his daughter on the head. "You're such a smart girl." He cooed before leaving the room.

~-~-~

James walked into Vinny's office and rested his hands on Chris' small shoulders. "Busy?" He asked.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yes James."

James began massaging Chris' shoulders with his skilled hands and bent down and whispered into the smaller man's ear. "I think you can spare just a few minutes."

"It's never just a few minutes with you James."

"Pleeeeeaaaaase?"

Chris groaned and turned around, pulling James down into a kiss. "You've got ten minutes before my next meeting."

James grinned and pulled Chris out of the office by his wrist. "Sounds good to me!"

~-~-~

Kevin stepped out of his favorite diner on a brisk Monday morning and grabbed a newspaper from a rack outside the restaurant's giant window.

Splashed across the front page in bold black type was today's headline.

Local Shop Owner Brutally Sliced to Death

Under the headline was a black and white photo of a man with his wrists ziptied to a desk chair. You couldn't make out any of his facial features because he looked like he'd been through a paper shredder.

Kevin grumbled angrily in Italian and shoved the newspaper under his arm before heading home.

"James!" He shouted when he walked through the front door.

"In the living room, boss!" James called.

Kevin found his best friend lounging on the couch with no shirt on and his suspenders hanging at his sides.

"What are you doing?"

"Just sitting here I guess." James said with a shrug.

"Yeah, well that's not happening anymore. You need a hobby, kid."

"I have a hobby."

"Murder isn't a hobby."

"I don't look at it as murder, I look at it as artful human extermination."

"That's a load of fucking bullshit."

"You got me there. I like killing stuff, mostly people. There's nothin' wrong with that."

Kevin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He closed his eyes to regain his composure and put his hands on his hips. "James, you're insane, clinically insane."

"Yeah, the voices in my head say the same thing." James said sarcastically, quoting a movie he and Kevin had watched the other night about a crazy girl who saw spirits.

"Not that kind of crazy." Kevin snapped. "Killing people isn't something that a person should just be able to do without a second thought, James. You aren't right in the head."

James balled his fists up, his lightheartedness about the situation gone. "You've got no right-"

"James please, it's because I care."

"Oh oh you care? Just like you cared enough to treat me like your pet and lock me in the house. News flash Kevin, but your 'help' is what sent me into the daze that ended with me ripping my own father to shreds, so I think I'll pass." James said, getting up. He began walking towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" Kevin asked, following him.

"I dunno, maybe I'll kill a bookie, maybe I'll fuck Chris, maybe I'll kill myself, who knows at this point?"


	21. Nineteen

James sat down on his couch and popped open the lid of his medication. The last two pills tumbled out into his palm and he swallowed them dry. In his normal routine, James tossed the bottle into a box by his TV.

The box was overflowing with empty bottles of James' antipsychotics of varying brands, intensities, and ages. The oldest bottle was from James' first year living on his own. He'd been seventeen.

Whatever had possessed James to collect the empty bottles of his mental health medication was probably part of what his medicine was failing at treating.

James sighed and looked around his apartment. It smelled like cleaning products because of Ricky's monthly visits to keep it from turning into a crime scene.

Ricky was the only person besides James who'd ever been in the apartment, nobody else even knew the address, not even Kevin. It was a popular joke among the goodfellas to guess what James' home looked like behind his back. The most widely accepted idea was that James lived in a blood-soaked medieval torture chamber. They couldn't've been more wrong.

The apartment looked normal except for a few little hints at James' activities. The suspicious cooler in the kitchen that was duct-taped shut, two gallons of bleach under the sink, the dried blood in the shower, the half empty jar of embalming fluid, and the industrial sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the medicine cabinet.

James turned on his crappy old TV set and kicked off his shoes.

"In other news, Rudy Giuliani comes to New York with big plans for the Italian mafia." A reporter said. James snorted and rolled his eyes, he'd been hearing about that Giuliani kid for weeks now and as far as James could tell, he wasn't gonna amount to much.

James jumped in surprise when someone knocked at his door. This was the first time in half a decade that James had had a surprise visitor. He looked through the peep hole and saw Chris standing in the hallway looking worried. Chris rocked back and forth nervously and he ran his fingers through his hair.

With an eye roll, he opened the door. "Chris wha-?" James was cut off by Chris rushing into the apartment and wrapping his arms around James' waist, slamming their lips together.

Chris kissed James desperately while James stared ahead with wide, shocked eyes. When Chris broke out of the kiss he breathed deeply and looked up at James. "You're not going to kill yourself, right?" He asked in a small voice.

James hoisted Chris up and held him, kissing him again. "Not as long as you're around."

~-~-~

Kevin and Connor sat on a couch in Vinny's office and talked quietly. Chris had gone out suddenly and Kevin's family was at church so he seized the opportunity for some private time with Connor.

"Connor do you think the internet will take off?" Kevin asked, staring up at the ceiling fan.

"Huh? What do you mean by 'take off'?"

"If this internet thing is really all it's cracked up to be then can you imagine how much power we could glean through it."

"Is that all you ever think of Kevin? Power? Money? The business? All the time?"

"It's how I was raised, I'm just wired to think about all that first."

"Well I hope the internet helps people and makes the world a smaller place."

Kevin rubbed up and down Connor's back and smiled. "That's a nice way to think of it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Connor turned his head and kissed the tip of Kevin's nose. "I love you."

"I love you too, Connor."

Connor smiled and closed his eyes happily. "I know."

~-~-~

"Where's my son!?" Conall screamed, throwing his office doors open and storming into the foyer. "Where is that son-of-a... beautiful woman?"

Aideen smirked at her husband and carried Iona up the stairs and way from her angry father.

"Cathal! Where's Connor!?"

Cathal looked up and saw his boss staring at him. He jammed the dirty magazine he was reading into his jacket and blushed. "I have no idea boss. He took the car and left just like he always does."

"Always does?"

"Yeah, for a month or two now."

"Where has he been going?"

"I do not know, Conall."

Conall wanted to get Connor's opinion on a family decision but instead he was met with a secret that had been sitting right under his nose for months.


	22. Twenty

She always ended up this way somehow; sitting on her bed, staring at the jewelry box.

Today was different though.

Leslie reached out and flicked the latch down on the wooden box and opened the lid. Inside was a silver dagger with a jewel encrusted hilt. She and Donnie had received it as an early wedding gift from a Chicago mob boss.

Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around the gems and lifted it out of the box. Leslie took a deep breath and rested the tip against her chest. With a sigh she dropped the knife onto the mattress and stood up.

She walked into her closet and put on her favorite dress, a long pale pink gown with a sequined bodice and sheer skirt. After she was dressed, Leslie pinned her blonde hair into a twisted up-do and put diamond earrings on, then she put on a large necklace made with silver and sapphires and did her makeup until she looked perfect.

Leslie's appearance rivaled America's most stunning starlet or a Barbie Doll, but it wouldn't last. This was the last time Leslie would ever do herself up; never again would she turn heads as she entered a room or enchant dinner parties with her wild and imaginative stories.

Of course, Donnie was on her mind, but so were Leslie's children and she desperately wanted the chance to meet them.

No matter what.

Looking like a vision, Leslie sat at the edge of the bed she shared with Donnie and picked up the knife.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee." Tears began to fall from Leslie's eyes, smudging her eyeliner. "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Sobs began to shake Leslie's body as she pressed the knife tip against the center of her chest. "H-Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death." Leslie felt the knife break skin. "Amen."

Leslie plunged the knife into her chest, severing a jugular and dying after just a few minutes of suffering. In those final moments of pain, Leslie thought about Donnie. He'd miss her, she'd miss him, but there was no going back now and Leslie didn't regret her actions at all.

~-~-~

Donnie got home and flicked off his suspenders like he always did. So far, the day felt normal. "Les! Want to go see a movie or something?" He called. There was no response. "Hun?" Donnie walked into his bedroom and froze.

"No. No, no, no, please God no." Slowly, Donnie approached the bed. There was no blood on the white sheets, there was no blood at all, just Leslie looking as beautiful as ever. She looked like she was sleeping, except there was a knife sticking straight out of her chest. Donnie tried to touch his wife but his hands just floated over her like two repelling magnets.

He gripped the knife and pulled it out of her chest, blood began to bubble up out of the wound and pool on Leslie's chest, staining her lovely gown and making her necklace sticky. Donnie noticed her smudged eye makeup and he felt his own soul hurt. His fiancé had died alone at home, she'd been sad, she'd been crying, and Donnie wasn't there to save her.

Donnie lifted Leslie's torso up off the bed and hugged her lifeless body. He broke down into tears, squeezing her, willing her back to life. There was no note, no explanation for Leslie's final act.

"No, no, no, no, no." That was the only word that Donnie could utter. It was the only word going through his mind as his best friend's warm blood soaked through his shirt.

~-~-~

Kevin, Chris, and James scrunched their noses at the smells of sweat, liquor, and sex as they walked into "Bada-Bing", a strip club that was purchased by the Price family in '67.

The club functioned as a source of income for the family and as a covert place to do business. Back in 1969, during an all-out mob war spawned by the death of Ghita Davis, Bada-Bing was the HQ of the Price army and a bunker for Vinny and his caporegimes.

Today, Kevin was here to meet a ballsy young associate who had planned a big heist.

"Chris you're coming in with me, James wait out here." Kevin said, pointing in the locations that he wanted his top boys.

Chris followed his boss into the back room and James followed a stripper to the bar.

~-~-~

"So we set up a fake car crash and call for help as the truck is coming by then we rob it when the driver pulls over."

Kevin rubbed his chin. "What's in the truck?"

"Jeans from Japan."

"Good, I like it. You have my approval, I'll put someone on that."

The associate was named Jack and he'd brought along one of his friends, Tony. Jack furrowed his brow. "What?"

"That's a good plan, so I'm putting some wiseguys on it. I'm not trusting two kids with this."

Tony stepped up. "I don't understand."

Kevin looked at the man who had spoken out of turn. "That's because I wasn't talking to you." He snapped.

Jack pulled a pistol out of his waistband and pointed it at Kevin with shaky hands. "Y-you're gonna give us that job."

"Am I?"

"Y-yeah."

 

"You aren't gonna shoot me."

Jack smirked and shot the wall only a few inches away from Chris' head.

"Shit Kevin do something!" Chris exclaimed, his ears ringing.

Kevin reached out and simply snatched away Jack's pistol. "Do you want me to blow your skull up Jackie?"

"I'm not afraid of death! You can kill me, but my blood will be on your hands. You'll have to live with the knowledge that you-"

"Yeah, hold that thought." Kevin interjected, handing Chris the gun and walking out of the office.

He stepped into the club and glanced around until he spotted his Capo Bastone. James was standing on the stage next to a strip pole with his hand in a dancer's bra as he kissed up and down her neck.

"James! Get down from there!" Kevin shouted.

James broke free from his new friend and hopped off the stage, the dancer winked at him as he approached Kevin.

"What's up boss?"

"I need your special brand of persuasion, but I don't want to kill him."

"Hmm, we can't kill him... well I do know of something that no man wants to live without."

"What?"

James awkwardly gestured to his crotch. "We could, y'know..."

"Oh, OH."

"I've got bolt cutters in my trunk, I think."

"Do your worst Church."

James smiled and retrieved his bolt cutters before locking himself in the office with Jack and Tony. Kevin and Chris waited outside and flinched at the bloodcurdling screams coming from behind the door.

Ten minutes later, James popped his head out the door. His face was splattered with blood and he had a large dopey smile on his face. It was the kind of smile that someone makes in a family photo at Disney Land, not after torturing two eighteen year-olds with bolt cutters.

"You've got your way boss." James reported.

Chris noticed the bloody bolt cutters in James' grip and he swallowed hard. "Did you c-cut their dicks off?" He choked out.

"Nah, but Jack lost a finger."

~-~-~

Frank Davis stared at Carlo blankly, the young man was talking excitedly to him and calling him "Father", but Frank had no clue who this kid was. He was a handsome boy, his appearance resembled that of Frank's late wife, God bless her soul.

"Right? I think if I really put my mind to it, I could do it."

"Sure kid, you seem smart." Frank replied supportively.

The young man's face grew downcast. "Do you know who I am?" He asked.

"Sorry, can't say I do."

"Okay, sorry to bother you." The man said, nodding sadly and leaving the room. He'd been talking about wanting to go to Harvard one day, but the dream fell flat.


	23. Twenty One

"Well that's fucking rude." Kevin snapped, slamming his desk phone onto the receiver.

"Kevin, the man just lost a son. Give him a break." Chris said.

"Yeah, I get that, but when you have a monopoly on the media outlets you should at least have a backup guy to deal with shit when you can't."

"Doesn't Donnie have an underboss?" Chris asked, trying to remember which Michaels was Donnie's right hand man.

"Apparently fucking not."

Kevin left Vinny's office, grumbling about how to run a proper business, leaving Chris and James alone.

James was sleeping on the couch opposite the one that Chris was working on, occasionally he would kick his legs or let out a snore.

Something always seemed so off about James lately. Chris worried that everyday James was digging his hole deeper and deeper. Pretty soon there would be no way out.

~-~-~

Conall slapped Connor hard. The slap stung like a thousand bees on Connor's cheek but the young man remained silent and lockjaw.

"Where have you been going!?" Conall shouted, his spit raining onto Connor's face. Connor kept his silence and it enraged his father.

"Fine. Don't tell me, but I'll be watching you." Conall threatened before untying Connor and shoving him out into the foyer roughly.

That interrogation session had lasted almost two hours and Connor's head was spinning. The pain made his skull feel like it was going to burst. He crawled up the stairs on his hands and knees before collapsing on his bedroom floor and passing out in a puddle of his own drool that he didn't realize was dribbling out of his numb lips.

Two hours later, Connor blinked awake. The drool covered carpet smelled like his breath and his cheek was sticky. It felt like there was something in his eye so Connor rubbed it with a finger and flinched when he saw dried blood on his finger. He rushed into the bathroom and saw that it wasn't drool making his cheek sticky, it was blood from his eye and there was still more flowing.

Connor balled up some toilet paper and taped it over his eye like an eyepatch before stumbling into the kitchen. "Ma, where's Cathal? I need to go to the hospital." He said weakly.

"What's wrong mo bhuachaill?"

"My eye is bleeding Ma, I gotta get help."

Aideen gripped Connor's shoulders and led him to her car, sitting her son in the passenger seat before getting in and starting the engine. She drove Connor to hospital where they were told they'd have to wait two hours before they could receive help.

"Alright, just make an appointment for Connor McKinley." Aideen said coolly.

The nurse's eyes widened. "Oh, look at that! We've got a room open just now! How lucky! Right this way please."

Aideen helped Connor up and took him by the hand. "Yes, lucky indeed."

~-~-~

James was laying on a couch in Vinny's office, tossing a ball up into the air and catching it absently while Chris talked to him about something he was tuning out.

Kevin came storming into the room. "Vito didn't pay up on that telethon scam." He shouted angrily.

A few weeks ago, Vito got help from the other four families to run a phony telethon. He had promised a cut to each family that they were supposed to receive two days ago, but there was no money and Vito was nowhere to be found.

"Wait, there's nothing? No money at all?" Chris asked in bewilderment.

"No! Nothing! We can't even find him!"

James sniggered and tossed his ball up again. "It's too bad they don't have a telethon for fuckface liars; have they found a cure for that yet?"

Kevin rolled his eyes and fell back into his desk chair. He tangled his fingers into his thick hair and sighed. "I swear to God, I'm gonna go gray before I'm thirty if I have to keep dealing with shit like this."

"Nah, chin up boss." James got up and sat on the edge of Kevin's desk. "You've still got us! Let's go down to Bada-Bing or something."

"James I thought you were gay, why do you care about the showgirls?"

"I'm not gay, I like everybody."

Chris raised his hand. "Well I am gay and I think that having those girls dance around like that is demeaning to them."

Kevin looked at the blonde. Chris almost never voiced a negative opinion, but thank god he did now because it gave Kevin an excuse to turn down the invitation. "Yeah, Chris is right. I refuse to be a party to that."

James shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself, but I'm going anyway. That is, unless Chris wants to spend some time with me?"

"Get out of here James, you're stinking up the place."

"Bye lovey."

~-~-~

Connor's doctor walked into the room with a clipboard and a white paper bag. He pulled away the toilet paper eye-patch the young man had fashioned for himself.

"Is it bad?" Aideen asked.

"He has a hyphema in his left eye."

"That is?"

"Bleeding inside of the eye, usually caused by blunt force trauma. Did you get hit in the face or head recently?" The doctor asked Connor.

"Yessir."

"The hyphema is very large, you can see the eye filling with blood." He said, addressing Connor's mother.

Aideen looked over at Connor's eye and she gasped. From his pocket, the doctors produced a slit lamp and examined the inner structures of Connor's eye, then he conducted a full vision test.

"I'm worried about potential loss of vision in his eye."

"L-like blindness?" Connor stuttered nervously.

"It's not unheard of, but we're going to get you in for a CT Scan."

"Okay."

From the white bag, Connor's doctor pulled out a lump of gray, felt-like material and taped it over his eye. "The bleeding can continue for many days, so we'll keep changing this."

"Okay."

~-~-~

Vito Cunningham scrambled through his messy desk, searching for the pay stubs for the other bosses. They were nowhere to be found and he could practically feel Kevin, Conall, Donnie, and Frank breathing down his neck.

"Tommy did you find em?" Vito asked his underboss desperately.

Tommy Smith looked up from the filing cabinet he was crouching over. "No boss, they're not here."

"Oh no, this is very bad. Those other bosses could crush us with one word."

A pudgy young man walked into the room with a wad of paper in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other came waltzing into Vito's office.

"Dad, the ice cream truck just went by!"

Vito's gaze dropped to the papers in his son's hand. "Arnold, what are those?" He asked stiffly.

"They're nuts Dad, I got them put on my ice cream because it's too boring on its own. I was gonna ask for chocolate syrup too but-"

"I'm not talking about your ice cream, Arnold! What's in your other hand?"

"Oh! I dunno, I found these in my pocket. You asked me to hand them to you after the telethon but I kinda forgot."

Vito snatched the pay stubs out of Arnold's hand and tossed them to Tommy. "Get Junior to hand deliver these to each boss, personally." He barked.

Tommy snatched that the papers out of the air and shoved them into his pockets before dashing out of the room.


	24. Twenty Two

"Oh my God, who did this to you!?" Kevin gingerly touched the black foam that was taped over Connor's eye.

"Don't worry about it Kevin."

"I am worried about it because you're in pain and I love you." Kevin helped Connor over to his bed.

They two men sat cross-legged on Kevin's bed. "Can I still kiss you?" He asked.

"It's my eye that's hurt Kevin, not my mouth."

"Good, because I missed you." Kevin said, crawling forward and placing his hand on the back of Connor's neck. He pulled him in for a long slow kiss.

"It still makes me sad that we can't do normal things together, like go on dates."

"Connor, we're two gay men in 1974, we couldn't do normal dates together even if we weren't mobsters."

Connor looked genuinely sad and Kevin had an idea. "Hold on a second." He said, pecking Connor on the lips and leaving his room. Connor waited on Kevin's bed nervously.

He felt exposed with only one good eye and no knowledge of Kevin's home besides his bedroom.

After almost ten minutes of anxious waiting, the doorknob twisted and Connor's breath hitched. Thankfully, Kevin stepped into the room a towel draped over his shoulders and cardboard box in his hands. He spread the towel out over the bed and opened up the box.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked with a bemused grin.

"We're having a lunch date."

"In your bedroom?"

Kevin looked around the room in shock. "Bedroom? What bedroom? This is Central Park! You just can't tell because you've got a wonky eye." He kissed Connor's forehead gently.

"Wow okay, I'll play along. What's on the menu?"

"Well, what with my micromanaging mother always near the kitchen and James eating anything he can get his hands on, the menu is mostly fruit I nabbed from the bowl on the counter."

Kevin popped a grape into his mouth and tossed an orange over to Connor.

"Hmph, matches your hair." 

Connor snorted sarcastically and peeled the orange. He pulled off a piece and handed it to Kevin before taking a bite of his own.

"I really want to kiss you." Kevin said suddenly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay." Connor said casually, scooting into Kevin's lap. He leaned forward like he was going to kiss the brunette, but at the last minute he pulled back and popped a strawberry into Kevin's waiting mouth.

"Wha-?" Kevin asked, his eyes opening in confusion.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Connor cried, falling over himself with laughter at Kevin's expense.

Kevin didn't like being teased, but he couldn't possibly be upset with his Connor so he ended up blushing brightly.

"I'm sorry Kevin." Connor said with a smile before settling himself down on his boyfriend's lap and kissing him. "I love you so much."

~-~-~

Chris groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't take this any more!" He shouted.

James' head popped up from book he was reading and he looked at Chris with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"No, not you."

"Oh, carry on then."

The cause of Chris' frustration was the letter that had been dumped into his hands by one of Vito's men. Inside the envelope was a cryptic apology note and the late pay stub.

"Do you want a back rub?" James offered innocently, but Chris shot him a glare. "James I'm not in the mood right now. I actually do have a headache."

"No Chris, I mean an actual massage."

Chris still looked extremely suspicious. "This isn't a euphemism?"

"Nope."

"An innuendo?"

"Nada."

"A metaphor?"

"Going once-"

"James don't be a child."

"Going twice-"

"Quit it!"

"And..."

"Fine get over here."

"Sold, to the sexy blonde with the tight shirt!" James jumped up and joined Chris on the floor, surrounded by papers.

James followed through on his word and helped Chris relax significantly. This change in James' usually animalistic behavior didn't go unnoticed by Chris and he didn't intend to let it go.

~-~-~

A few days after James' change of heart in Vinny's office, Chris had spent the night at James' apartment.

James had a tendency to fall asleep after sex if he wasn't engaged in some way. To be perfectly honest, James had a tendency to fall asleep during most activities if he wasn't stimulated enough. Chris used this quirk to his advantage.

He gently lifted James' arm off of his chest and scooted out of the bed gently, then he pulled on his pajama pants and tiptoed out of the room.

Chris found what he was looking for on the side-table by James' couch, his meds.

The brand of this new bottle was different than any of the others in his discarded pill bottle collection by the TV set. It seemed like James had finally found the brand of antipsychotics that worked for him and he was finally mellowing out a bit.

Lately James had been calmer in general. He hadn't bothered Kevin for any contracts, he'd been much gentler with Chris, and he'd spent most of his time engrossed in a book that he never let anyone see the cover of.

The book in question happened to be discarded on the couch in that moment and Chris picked it up. James was reading "Mein Kampf", the memoirs of Adolph Hitler. He flipped the book open and noticed it was in its original German. Perhaps the hot-headed Capo Bastone was smarter than the family gave him credit for.

"Why are you up?" James asked groggily, standing in the hallway. His tousled sex hair and frown gave away how tired he was, but James' olive green eyes always looked bright and alert. He was in only his striped boxers and Chris reminded himself to focus on the Nazi memoir in his hands and not James' chest.

"Never mind what I'm doing, why are you reading this?" Chris asked, waving the red book around.

"Because I'm a grown man and I can read whatever I want."

"Not if it's by Adolph Hitler, and since when do you speak German?"

"Quit it Chris."

"I'm worried about you!"

James looked exhausted and he stepped forward. Chris took a step back.

"My therapist suggested it."

"Your what?"

"My therapist, Doctor Grant. He prescribed me the better meds too. I think he actually might be fixing me."

Chris hugged James tightly and noticed that his chest felt cold instead of radiating comforting human warmth like it should. "You don't need to be fixed, okay? You just need help."

"I like reading that book. Hitler was a bad guy, it makes me feel like I'm not such a monster."

"Who told you you were a monster?"

"My dad, my mom, Kevin, Vinny, half of my hits-"

"Okay, forget I asked. Let's go back to bed." Chris took James by the hand, intertwining his fingers with the other man's and dragging him to the bedroom for much needed sleep.

~-~-~

Donnie didn't want to face the world, not after the light of his life had been snuffed out, but he was the boss of a major crime organization and Donnie couldn't afford the luxury of private mourning.

He guessed that crying himself to sleep every night would have to do.

None of the other families knew what happened to Leslie yet. How could he tell them? Nobody would get it, they'd see it as a business opportunity. They're a bunch of sharks and Donnie was one of them, but now was different.

Ever since Leslie died, Donnie had been having horrible dreams. They weren't sad or scary, they were horrible because they'd never come true.

He'd dream that he and Leslie were living somewhere warm with two healthy kids and a dog. The kids would call Donnie "Daddy" instead of the strict term "Father" that mob children had beaten into them from birth, and Leslie would be "Mommy" and everything was perfect... until he woke up.


	25. Twenty Three

The bartender at Bada-Bing smiled at Chris and refilled his glass of iced tea.

All the girls at Bada-Bing loved Chris because he gave them the utmost respect and actually looked them in the eyes when they spoke instead of at their bare chests.

"Chris I think the piece of work at the back table is giving you a once over." The bartender, Kayley, said.

"Yeah, pass."

"I'm not making any incorrect assumptions am I?" Kayley asked.

"No no, you're right on that front. I just have a very complicated love life right now."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yeah, James Church."

"That cutie with the psychopath eyes?"

"Yup, that's the one."

A shadow crossed over the bar counter and Kayley bowed out as an elbow rested itself next to Chris. "Hi, I'm Alex." A deep voice said.

Chris looked over to see a semi-attractive man with blonde hair and stormy gray eyes.

"I'm Chris."

"Nice to meet you Chris. Can I get you something a little stronger than that?" Alex asked, gesturing to the glass of iced tea.

"No thanks, I kind of want to be alone if that's okay?" Chris mentally scolded himself for being so passive. Of course it was okay if he wanted to be alone. Why was he asking Alex's permission?

"Actually it's not okay," Alex said.

Damn it.

"I hate to see a beautiful face on its own."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but I'm actually not interested." He said firmly.

The playful glint in Alex's eyes flicked out. He reached down and placed a hand low on Chris' back. James might be a murderer with deep-seeded mental issues, but at least he understood the basic concept of consent.

"Please stop it."

Alex leaned in closer to Chris. "I've always been more of an ass man." He growled.

"Yeah? What a coincidence, because you're also an asshole."

Kayley stifled a giggle at her counter and blushed.

Things began going south quickly.

Alex took a step back. "You think you're too good for me? Hmm? Is that it? News flash short stack, you're not."

Chris felt trapped, Alex was probably twice his size and he wasn't armed.

"Actually, he is." A voice behind Alex said.

Alex turned around to see a dark-haired man standing with his arms crossed. "Fuck off." The man said.

"Want to make me?"

"Sure, James Church is always up for a nice beating." James said, cracking his knuckles.

"J-James Church?" Alex stammered. "I- I had no idea!"

"Leave."

"Yes sir." Alex bolted out of the club with his head down in total submission.

James approached Chris and sat in the seat that Alex had once occupied. "Are you okay?" He asked gently.

"Yes."

"Did he touch you?"

"Yeah, he just did some creepy passes. That's all."

"Hmph, I don't like it when people mess with my stuff."

"Your stuff?"

James leaned forward and kissed Chris' forehead. "Yeah, you're mine right?"

Chris smiled. "Only if you're mine."

"Deal."

~-~-~

Kevin reached to grab his stapler and accidentally bumped a cup of pencils off his desk. The cup clattered to the ground and pencils skittered off in all directions.

"Ugh, I just can't catch a break can I?" Kevin asked to no one in particular as he got on his hands and knees to pick up the pencils. As Kevin crawled around on the floor he came face-to-face with a pair of leather oxfords and a familiar smell filled his nose. "Father?"

Kevin looked up to see Vinny Price staring down at him. "Y-you're alive?"

"Listen to me Kevin."

"Father you're alive!"

"I said listen to me!"

Kevin hushed.

"Something is coming, something bad. It's almost time to take to the mattresses son. Remember '69, don't make the same mistakes I did. Don't get anybody killed."

"What? How do you know this?"

Before Vinny could answer, Kevin woke up. He had fallen asleep at his desk.

The pencil cup was still in its usual place and there was no sign of Vinny, it must've been a dream. Kevin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The job was really getting to him. It definitely wasn't normal to dream of your dead father giving you ominous warnings, was it?

~-~-~

"Hey James, do you ever dream?"

"Not usually."

"Well have you ever had a dream about your father? Maybe after his passing?"

"You mean after I slaughtered him?"

"Yeah, that."

"No. Why? Are you dreaming about Vinny?"

Kevin considered the content and message of the dream; he decided it wasn't wise to tell James. "No."

~-~-~

Nabulungi Hatimbi knew a thing or two about disrespect, she only dealt with it every day of her life. As a woman in law enforcement in this day and age, she had to be tough.

On the daily she got sexist and racist comments hurled at her by her peers, but whether they liked it or not, she was one of the top detectives and she trumped them every two weeks when it was time to collect paychecks.

Growing up in Uganda taught Nabulungi a few things like thankfulness, bravery, and honesty. Those traits were just as important in the NYPD as they were in Africa.

"Hey Hatimbi, that pencil skirt hiding anything interesting?"

"Fuck you Paul." Naba flipped off one of the grunt cops and walked into the police station with her head held high.

"Anything new today, Micah?" She asked when she reached her desk.

Micah Harris was Naba's assistant and the closest thing she had to an ally in the testosterone packed station. He was a gentle soul and he contented himself with desk work and coffee runs.

"Our search warrant for James Church's apartment is finally under review."

"Yes! Finally!"

With the Five Families at large, search warrant requests were piling up on the DA's desk faster than crack-heads to a street corner and Naba had filed her's weeks ago.

"This is our big break Micah, we're finally gonna nail that crazy son-of-a-bitch!"

~-~-~

Carlo crouched low in the grass behind a hedge. Clouds blotted out the moon and he couldn't see a thing, he relied on his hands to guide him as he skirted around the ornamental bushes that packed Conall McKinley's front yard.

All of the lights in the house were off except an upstairs bedroom. It's window casted a square spotlight onto the yard. Carlo slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped the small microphone that he was concealing.

It was a simple job really, bug Conall McKinley's office. Frank wanted to stir up trouble with the McKinleys, all of the families did. They wanted the Irishmen out of the New York mob scene, and out of New York itself, but first they'd need leverage.

Carlo dodged the view of the window and crept along to the backyard where he picked the lock in a sliding glass door. He knew exactly where to go from here. If he was in the kitchen, he'd head down the hall past the stairs and turn right into Conall's office.

The wooden floorboards squeaked agonizingly with each step Carlo took but he picked up his pace and tried to step lightly.

In Conall's office, Carlo crawled under his desk and laid flat on his back. He placed his screwdriver in between his teeth as he positioned the microphone and screw in a corner of the desk's underside. He screwed it in place and then threaded the wires with the cord from Conall's desk lamp so he wouldn't notice them. The job was done and the McKinley Family's descent had officially begun.


	26. Twenty Four

"Where are your mental health books? Or just stuff on psychology?"

Kevin had managed to sneak out and stop at a local bookstore. He was determined to get two things done today: interpret his dream and help James.

According to Chris, James had been seeing Dr. Grant as a therapist for awhile, but an in-depth search of the area produced no such medical practitioners, in less fancy terms: James was full of shit. Of course Chris bought it, why wouldn't he? Why would someone lie about getting better?

A shop attendant directed Kevin to a dim, dusty nook in the store. He was completely alone except for a young woman with bright red hair, pale skin, and black glasses. She looked up when Kevin entered the small area, but she seemed to lose interest and return to the book she had pulled from the shelf.

Kevin grabbed every book on psychopathy he could find and carried the stack over to a torn, dusty love-seat.

"You a student?"

Kevin looked up and realized that his companion was speaking to him. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you a psych student?"

"Oh, um no." Kevin waited for her to realize who she was speaking to and stumble away in fear. She didn't seem to recognize him.

The woman sat down next to Kevin and looked through his pile. "Interested in psychopaths aren't you? Have you been diagnosed?"

"No, but I'm worried about a friend."

"Oh, well if he needs help you should give me a call. My name is Abby Rose, I'm a psychologist up in the Catskills."

"A bit far from home are we?"

"Sometimes I like to get away. So tell me about your friend. What made you assume that he's a psychopath?"

Kevin brushed his fingers through his hair and gave Abby a once-over. She seemed trustworthy enough, but Kevin wasn't sure he wanted to talk about his Capo Bastone with an outsider. The Price crime family had their own therapist for its members, granted, he worked out of a van, but that was besides the point. Abby had a soft, friendly, warm appearance about her and Kevin found himself opening up despite any second thoughts he was having.

"He's very violent and dependent. He looks to me for tasks to fulfill these dark impulses he gets. He's also rough with people and himself. I worry that he has too much pent up feelings and that he'll end up tearing himself apart."

Abby nodded as Kevin spoke. "Does he think he's better than a lot of people, even though he really isn't?"

"Define better."

"He seems to feel more powerful or influential than he really is."

"Yes, I suppose."

"Y'know, violence doesn't always equal psychopathy. Most psychopaths are able to live fairly normal lives. What you're describing to me sounds a lot like a severe case of Paranoid Schizophrenia."

"How can you tell?"

"Delusions of grandeur, self-destructive tendencies, a condescending attitude. Those are all signs of somebody in need. Your friend is probably experiencing a lot worse than what you know about or could imagine. Most people with Schizophrenia go through days where they can't even distinguish between real and fake."

"Could you help him?"

"I could do my best, but I can only help those who want to be helped."

"Can I pick you up on Saturday for an on-location consult?"

"Sure." Abby pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled her address onto a complimentary bookmark. "I look forward to meeting your friend."

~-~-~

Connor sat in Kevin's bed, tucked under the sheets. He was reading over Kevin's shoulder as the other man was engrossed in a book.

"What are you reading?"

"It's a book about Schizophrenia, a girl I met named Abby Rose thinks James might be sick."

"You don't exactly need a medical degree to know that James is sick, but why this illness? I thought Schizophrenia was hearing voices and seeing things."

"Me too, but apparently there's different kinds. A lot of this stuff applies to James." Kevin closed the book and looked at Connor. "I'm worried about him, and Chris."

"I know you are and you're doing more than your fair share to help him. You're a good friend Kevin."

"Thanks."

"But I want you to remember, if this doesn't work, if something happens to James because of this, it isn't your fault okay? You can't stop him from doing anything."

Kevin nodded sadly and kissed Connor before turning off the bedside lamp and settling himself into bed. "C'mon, let's get some rest."

~-~-~

"Hey Chris, do you want this?"

Chris looked over at James and saw him pointing to an old lamp. "Do I want your lamp?"

"Yeah."

"Um, no James, not really."

"Okay."

"Can I ask why you want to give me your light fixtures?"

James only shrugged and walked into his bathroom, leaving Chris alone in the kitchen with his confusion. Lately James had been doing weird things like that. He'd been giving Chris uncharacteristically deep and loving goodbye kisses, and trying to unload his miscellaneous home objects onto him, and just behaving strangely in general. Chris attributed it to his new medication, but something wasn't right.

James' new behavior seemed "off", not bad, not scary, certainly not any better, just off.

"Chris will you come take a shower with me?" James asked, popping his head out of the bathroom.

"Sure." Chris took his shirt and pants off on the way to the bathroom and dumped them outside the door. In the bathroom, he dropped his boxers and climbed into the shower.

James was facing the faucet and letting the hot water hit his face. Chris came up behind him and wrapped his arms around James' waist and began kissing his neck, assuming that was why James invited him here in the first place.

"Chris, I'd rather not right now." James said.

Chris stepped back and turned James around. "If that isn't what you wanted, then why did you ask me to come in here with you?"

Again James offered up a shrug. "I dunno, didn't want to be alone I guess." 

Chris kissed James and took his hands in his own. "You aren't alone, okay?"

James avoided eye contact and Chris guided his chin so that he was looking down into Chris' eyes. "Okay?"

"Alright."


	27. Twenty Five

Connor desperately tried to shake Kevin awake. He was scared.

Kevin had been moaning out in his sleep like he was in terrible pain, he'd been kicking his legs and shaking his head, muttering the word "no" repeatedly.

"Kevin, Kevin wake up. I'm here okay? I'm here. I've got you."

Kevin was awake now, but his eyes were still shut tightly. A few tears slid down his cheeks and he nestled his head onto Connor's lap. Connor stroked Kevin's hair and hushed him softly. "I've got you."

He'd been dreaming of Vinny again. This time he'd been telling Kevin that his relationship with Connor was wrong. Vinny had suggested that Kevin go back to hurting himself to subdue his urges, he'd even offered to to it himself as he produced a belt from thin air. Just as Kevin was about to agree and let his father beat the gay out of him, Connor's loving voice tore him from the nightmare.

"Kevin, I'm here and I love you. It's okay." Connor said, desperately trying to calm Kevin. The other man had begun shaking, but Kevin was always a silent crier. "Just tell me what you need."

Kevin sat up and pulled Connor into a long, slow kiss. "You."

"I'm not going anywhere Kevin." Connor said, kissing his boyfriend back.

One year ago, if you had asked either of these young men if they thought they'd find "the one", they would have told you no. But now, Connor was certainly that he needed Kevin's company like he needed air; constantly.

~-~-~

James walked into Kevin's office, tossing his ball up and catching it in one hand. He stopped when he saw a young woman seated on the couch.

"Are you a hooker? Bada-Bing isn't taking applications right now." He said.

"No, I am not a prostitute."

"Then who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Doctor Rose, you can call me Abby if you'd like."

James sat down on the couch across from the woman. "Alright Rosy, I'll humor you, is this some kind of intervention."

"No, but you are gonna get the help you need."

"I don't need help, I've got new pills from my doctor."

"Yes, Dr. Grant, the one that doesn't exist. Your boyfriend gave me this," Abby held up a half empty bottle that James identified as the pills from his apartment. "These aren't antipsychotics and I can tell you've been shooting up. It's a nice try though, trying to the injection sites."

It would appear that James had met his match, but he wasn't about to make it easy on his counterpart.

"When was the last time you injected yourself with Norepinephrine?"

One point for the good doctor.

"Nore-what?"

"Don't play games with me, James. You act more like an animal than a person. Pumping Norepinephrine into your veins without supervision will do that to you. I could tell you've been using just by what people tell me. Your sex-life, your defensiveness, your idea of self-reward. Are you even sure what this chemical is James, or do you just like its effect?"

"No comment."

"Norepinephrine is released after your brain has to change in response to a stressful or traumatic event. Here's what I think: something happened to you and your body produced some Norepinephrine, you liked the rush so you paid off some doctor to give it to you. This is serious stuff James, you'd be better off doing Heroine."

"Is that why you're here? To give me the D.A.R.E. program lecture?" James asked absently. Despite what he was hearing, he didn't particularly care.

"No, I'm here to diagnose you and make your life ten times easier. Take off your shirt."

"Look, I'm not into that kinky doctor stuff."

"Well aren't you the king of defense mechanisms? So far we've got indigence and humor. Want to add another one or can we just move this along?" Abby said sarcastically. Each patient needed to be treated differently. James Church was a soldier, he needed a boss.

James glared at Abby as he slipped his shirt up over his head. "Does your heart race when you hurt people, James?" She asked, feeling his chest with her palm.

"No."

"What about when you kill them?"

"Still no."

Dr. Rose got on her knees in front of James' seat on the couch, and felt up and down his arms. "You're very precise with your injections. Kudos."

"Thanks."

She popped open the bottle of James' antipsychotics and put a pill in her mouth, sucking on it as she worked.

Another point to Doctor Rose, they were just sugar pills.

Abby weighed James, measured his height, took a blood sample, and checked his blood pressure.

"James, what was your Mom's life like? Particularly around the time she might've been pregnant with you. Did she have access to food, water, and medical care?"

"I don't know. My father might've been easier on her if she was pregnant. Back when he was alive, he'd hit us or keep us from eating sometimes."

"I see. How did your father die?"

"I beat him to death." James expected a gasp or some furious note taking from Dr. Rose, but she never broke eye contact. "Did it feel good to beat him?"

"I cried."

"Crying doesn't mean you didn't enjoy it, James."

"I didn't enjoy it, I felt free."

"Do you still feel free?"

"Not really."

James' story was falling into place and Paranoid Schizophrenia was now a major player. The illness could be developed if a fetus is exposed to infection or suffers malnutrition, both of which could've happened to James and his mother. Another cause of the illness could be a traumatic or stressful childhood, it seems like James had one of those too.

Before the meeting, James' boyfriend had tried to shed some light on his strange behavior for the doctor. It seemed that Chris had the other man figured out for the most part. If James was getting fidgety he'd need to get up and walk around, if James was getting heated you could tell because he'd ball his fists and hide them in his lap. Stroking James' hair or talking to him softly both worked as efficient ways to calm him.

"James do you ever hear or see things that other people tell you aren't there?"

"Occasionally."

"How often?"

"Maybe a couple times a month."

"What do you see and hear?"

"Sometimes I hear Chris talking to me when he's not there or I see my dad just watching me." A shudder slipped through James' body as he recollected the hours he'd spent staring at an apparition of his father that nobody else could see. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his lap. "In school, they thought I couldn't focus, or that I drifted off somewhere else, but I wasn't."

"You saw things."

"Yeah."

"On a scale of one to ten, how much would you say these occurrences affect your life today?"

"Three, I've learned to ignore them mostly, but when I was younger it'd be a seven or eight."

Dr. Rose stood up and crossed the carpet to sit next to James. She took his hands, which were quivering slightly, and locked her blue eyes with his green ones. "Is anybody trying to hurt you?"

A common and serious symptom of many paranoid disorders was the constant thought that someone is out to get you. Schizoids with this quirk had it rough, because they didn't just think they were being plotted against, they could "see" and "hear" their conspirators. Someone as violent as James definitely didn't need to be living in constant fear of attack.

"I'm in the mafia, everyone is trying to hurt me."

"No, that's not what I mean. Is anybody unaffiliated plotting against you?"

"The NYPD is always up my ass."

"James, please be serious with me. You know what I'm talking about."

Abby's firm tone got through and James pulled his hands away. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his palms. "Sometimes I think people are out to get me. Ordinary people."

"Why?"

"They don't get it."

"Get what?"

"It." James stood up and started pacing and wringing his hands. This was the first emotional release he'd had in twenty-one torturous years and thoughts were piling up in his mind like water pressing against a dam.

Abby checked her watch and stood up. She didn't have anywhere to be, but the appointment was over for James. He needed it to be. She quietly collected her things and didn't disturb James as he paced.

On her way out of the office, James grabbed her wrist tightly. "Yes?" Abby asked, looking over her shoulder at James.

"I want to do this again." He said softly.

Abby reached into the pocket of her sweater and produced a card with her number on it. "Whenever you're ready, there's absolutely no rush." She pulled James' hand off of her wrist and wrapped his fingers around the card.

James walked to the window and watched Dr. Rose get into her car, a white Volkswagen Beetle. It suited her. He felt arms wrap around him from behind and he felt the warm breath of someone who could only be Chris against his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

Chris sniffed, his eyes looked red. James was surprised at the amount of emotion he had elicited from him. "Did you tell the doctor that you were my boyfriend?" He asked.

Chris blushed. "It was simpler than explaining the friends-with-benefits thing we've got going on."

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" James asked in a strained voice.

Chris patted his chest. "I'm okay where I am, you don't need any more emotional revelations today. Are you hungry?"

"Always."

"Kevin's mother made minestrone, let's go get some." Chris took James' hand and led him out of the office, content with his state for the first time in a long time.


	28. Twenty Six

Micah took the cold steel steps down to the mail room to empty out Naba's mailbox. He tossed the little silver key up and caught it again as he walked.

When he unlocked the unit, a thick yellow envelope popped out and smacked onto the floor. A very official-looking stamp proudly proclaimed that it was from the desk of Louis J. Lefkowitz, the Attorney General.

"Naba! We got approved!" Micah exclaimed, barreling into his boss' office and waving the envelope around like a revolutionary flag. "We can start our investigation on James Church!"

Naba snatched the envelope excitedly and tore it open. Lefkowitz had granted her everything she needs to take James down. She received her warrant, state funding, rights to surveillance technology and vehicles, and best of all... the arrest warrant.

~-~-~

"Chris I have to go hit somebody with my car, do you want to come?" Kevin asked, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door.

"Why are you doing it? Get James to."

"I offered, he said no."

Kevin didn't regret having Doctor Rose visit one little bit, but he was slightly annoyed at having to do his own dirty work now. James spent most of his time napping in the sunroom now. His life seemed empty, but at least his bloodlust was being kept at bay.

Chris flicked the lock into place on his briefcase and stood up. "Sure I'll come along. Who are we mowing down?"

"Just an associate who couldn't keep his mouth shut."

Internally, Chris wondered why Kevin didn't get someone from Murder, Inc. to handle this job, but he figured his boss had his reasons.

~-~-~

Connor sat on the closed toilet lid and winced in pain as his mother peeled the patch off of his eye. The tape stung as it pulled on his skin and the harsh lights irritated his eye.

Before a new patch could be put on, Connor's eye needed to be flushed, medicated, and the outside of it would need to be cleaned. Aideen took care of all of it because she knew how squeamish her boy was about blood, even his own.

When Connor was done, he walked tiredly up to his bedroom but stopped when he heard his bed creak from the hall. He geared himself up to fight off an attacker then swung the door open to see Iona playing with her stuffed animals on his bed.

"Hey Iona, what are you doing in here?"

The four year-old had lost a front tooth recently and it took everything Connor had not to laugh at her temporary new speech patterns.

"I haff to ask you a queftion."

"What's the question, hun?" Connor asked, sitting down next to her and pulling the little girl onto his lap.

"Why do you wear that?" She asked, gently touching the edge of the tape on Connor's face.

"I got in a fight with Father."

"Because of the silly fing you did?"

"Yeah, that."

"What did you do?"

Connor rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I fell in love."

~-~-~

Kevin spent his entire Saturday trying to convince James, Chris, and his family to go to Sunday church. He managed to convince them all to go to church and stay for the family picnic afterwards, that meant that Kevin would have the house all to himself.

"Connor, come over tomorrow morning."

"What? Why?"

"Because I miss you and we'd have the house all to ourselves."

"You had me at 'because'."

On other side of the phone call, Connor sat on his bedroom floor blushing because the man he loved had said that he missed him. Iona tugged at Connor's shirt sleeve.

"What's he saying?" She whispered.

Connor shrugged his shoulder to get her off of him, but she just latched on tighter. "What's your prince saying? Teeeeeeeeell me."

"Okay, I love you too. Bye Kevin." Connor hung up and looked over at his sister who looked as if she was about to explode.

"What did he say!?" Iona cried, falling back onto her bottom and looking up at Connor.

"He just asked me if I want to spend time with him tomorrow."

"Did you say yes?"

"Of course I did!"

Iona squealed and wrapped her arms around Connor.

"Psst Connor, haff you... kissed?" The four year-old hesitated before saying the word "kissed" like it was some kind of taboo.

"Yes Iona, we've kissed."

Iona covered her mouth and puffed out her cheeks. A fierce red blush covered her face, similar to the way Connor looked when he was embarrassed or flattered. "Your Kevin is very handsome. I like his swoopy hair."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "How do you know what Kevin looks like?"

"I met him when he was in the closet."

There was a joke to be made there somewhere, but Connor missed it. "What?"

"I was hiding in your closet and I saw Kevin in there because Cathal came in your room."

The memory fell back into place for Connor and he prayed that Iona didn't say anything about Kevin. Knowing her, she didn't.

~-~-~

It felt so good for Connor to be able to walk up to Kevin's front door and knock on it like a normal boyfriend instead of crawling through a window.

Kevin answered the door and pulled Connor inside. He pressed the shorter man up against the door started kissing him hard. Just as things were getting interesting, the doorbell rang.

Kevin pulled his mouth off of Connor's neck with a popping noise and furrowed his brow in confusion. Connor on the other hand, looked sheet white. He stepped out of the doorway's sight while Kevin answered.

"Hey Connor, come over here!" Kevin called. "I think I found something of yours."

Connor stepped up behind Kevin and gasped.

A little girl with long curly red hair and bright blue eyes stood on Kevin's front steps. A stuffed rabbit was tucked under her arm and she stared up at Kevin.

"Hi Kevy!" She said with a wave.

"Iona what are you doing here?" Connor asked, hoisting the little girl up into his arms.

"I hid in your backseat because I wanted to play with you and Kevin today."

Kevin looked like he was about to burst into laughter and Connor shot him a stern glare. "I guess we'll be playing a different game than what we had in mind, huh Connor?" Kevin said.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Iona smiled brightly and patted Connor's head.

With Iona around, Connor and Kevin had to tone down their idea of a fun day alone together. Lunch consisted of grilled cheese for everybody, except the adults got wine. Kevin took a sip of his drink and smiled at the glass.

"What?" Connor asked.

"This is nice. You, me, her, wine and grilled cheese. I really like this." Kevin leaned over in his seat to peck Connor on the lips and Iona started kicking her legs excitedly. "What are you so excited about Miss?" Kevin asked the little girl.

"I love it so much!" She exclaimed. Iona really did love Connor more than anybody else, and anything that made her brother happy made Iona happy by extent.

Kevin got up from his seat and lifted Iona onto his shoulders. She squealed and grabbed onto Kevin's hands. "I've never been so tall!"

Connor rolled his eyes at the unintentional jab at his height but he smiled brightly when he saw how happy both Kevin and his sister looked.

~-~-~

It was nearing the time that Kevin's family would begin arriving home and it was time for the McKinleys to go.

Connor picked up his little sister and held her to the side as he hugged Kevin and kissed him goodbye. Iona wiggled around in Connor's arms to face Kevin.

She reached out and grabbed his cheeks in her little hands before pulling him downwards to her eye level. Iona placed a light kiss on Kevin's forehead and patted his hair like she did with Connor. "Bye bye Kevin."

"Bye Iona."

Kevin watched Connor carry his sister down the driveway and buckle her into the backseat. He must've checked the belt five times before he was content that she was secure. When their car disappeared, Kevin walked into the kitchen and noticed something on the table.

He picked up a folded piece of paper from underneath an empty wine glass and opened it to reveal a crayon drawing of himself holding hands with Connor. A safe, warm feeling crept through Kevin's body and he refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

~-~-~

Chris found his thoughts drifting to James often during the day. Every time he said goodbye to the other man he worried that that would be the last time he ever sees him again. James didn't seem angry or impulsive anymore, he just seemed sad.

Chris sat on his bed with his legs crossed, he felt smaller than usual. He had pick-pocketed Abby's business card from James a few days ago and decided to call her. "Um, hi is this Abby Rose?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"Yeah, hi. I just have a question about James."

"Sure what's on your mind?"

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"He'll only ever be as 'okay' as he wants to be."


	29. Twenty Seven

Strange little things were happening in James Church's apartment, things too small to assign any significance to, but things nonetheless. Sometimes things wouldn't be where he left them, or pillows would be smushed, or previously closed doors would be ajar. James ignored these happenings actively, but they were all the work of Nabulungi Hatimbi and her team taking advantage of the free access they had to James' home via search warrant.

The NYPD only needed to find one incriminating piece of evidence to garner a probable cause testimony, but unfortunately, creepy doesn't equal criminal. The antipsychotics bottle graveyard, the bloodstains in the shower, the bottles of chemicals, none of that gave Naba the conviction she needed. A week into their daily searches, there was a break in the case thanks to Micah. The desk jockey had accidentally discovered a hidden dumb waiter in the wall by bumping his elbow against it. It took two large grunt cops to pull it open (a job that James was able to perform all on his own); inside there were old bullet casings hidden away from the world, and the police.

After a ballistics report connected many of the casings to murders and robberies around New York, Naba finally had the dirt she needed to haul James in.

~-~-~

James sat on the couch in Kevin's living room with Chris' head in his lap. He stroked his blonde hair absently and rubbed circles onto the back of one of his hands. Suddenly the peace was disturbed as the front door fell from its hinges with a giant bang and a woman followed by four large men came into the room. "James Church you're under arrest." The woman said in a monotone, yet slightly smug, voice.

Chris sat up and gripped James' hand tightly, there was horrible fear in his eyes and etched onto his face. James saw how scared Chris was and it infuriated him.

"Not here." He said menacingly.

"We can't reschedule your arrest James, lay on the ground on your stomach and put your hands behind your back."

Chris made a small sound and James let go of his hand. "Not here."

"If you don't comply we'll take you forcibly James."

"Not. Here." James punctuated his words by standing up and stepping towards the cops. Chris remained on the couch, paralyzed in fearful anticipation.

"James-" He choked out, but James had stepped just a bit too close and two officers tackled him to the ground. Chris felt completely helpless, he couldn't defend James from five police officers and he certainly didn't want to get dragged into a prison where he knew he wouldn't last a day.

As Chris watched James get dragged off, he felt the smallest and most insignificant he'd felt in his entire life.

~-~-~

When Kevin and Jack got home they were confused as to why the front door was now in the foyer and why Chris was sitting on the front steps with his head in his hands. Kevin waved his brother inside and sat down next to Chris.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Chris lifted his head and looked over at Kevin with a blank expression. "They got him."

James had been arrested before, how could he not've been? He'd only been arrested for minor things like stealing, money laundering, stalking, and drug possession. "He's been sloppy, Kevin, sloppy and sick and now he could be gone forever."

~-~-~

"James Church, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"I bet you're really fucking enjoying this aren't you?"

A short, balding detective sat across from James in an interrogation room. He looked extremely proud of himself as he presented James with his Miranda Rights.

"You have the right to talk to a lawyer and have him present with you while you are being questioned."

"Lucky me."

"If you cannot afford to hire a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you before any questioning if you wish. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you? Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us now?"

"I'm not telling you shit. I want my phone call and that bitch who hauled me in." James attempted to cross his arms to finalize his statement but his handcuffs caught on the table and yanked him forward. The cop sniggered at him, but got up to fill his request.

~-~-~

Cathal opened the door to Conall's office and stepped inside. He planned on running some ideas passed his godfather but he was greeted by the sight of an angry Irishman crawling around on the floor. "Godfather? Did you lose something?" He asked. Conall's head shot up and banged against his desk. "Fuck!" He cried, standing up. "There's a bug in here somewhere, I know it and I'm willing bet it was those fucking Davises."

"A bug? Like a microphone or something?"

"Yes. Those idiots have been six steps ahead of us for weeks, they have information that has only been discussed in this office."

"Maybe Connor ratted you out." Cathal suggested with a shrug. Conall narrowed his eyes and forgot about his throbbing headache. "Run that by me again Cathal."

"I'm just sayin', the man's been acting weird for months." And with that, Cathal left the office and left Conall to mull over his newest revelation.

Connor had been acting suspiciously, but the Davises had been acting stranger... priorities were sorted and Connor's problems were temporarily swept under the rug.


	30. Twenty Eight

"You look hot in the orange jumpsuit."

  
"I make a lot of things look good."

  
Chris smiled at James' smugness and placed his hand on the bulletproof glass that divided them. James placed his larger hand on the opposite side of Chris' and looked into his bright green eyes. "When I get out, I'm gonna... do something for you."

  
"Do what?"

  
"I dunno, something nice."

  
A large man behind the rope called out to James. "Hey fag, hurry it up! Some of us have _women_ to talk to!"

  
James whipped his head around to face the distraction. "Shut the hell up Henry! Do you want my fucking foot up your ass!?"

  
Henry quieted down upon seeing the face of the man he had disturbed. James' reputation preceded him, even in the stony lonesome.

 

"Do you!?"

  
"No Mister Church."

  
"Good. Now be quiet."

  
James turned back to Chris and rolled his eyes. "God, they're a bunch of animals in here, I swear to ya'." He said in an exasperated tone.

 

Chris feigned a smile at his lover’s arrogance, but the depth of the situation still held him down. “Kevin says he’ll represent you, in court, I mean.” Chris said, expecting a positive reaction.

 

“Pass.”

 

Chris blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

James rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before replying. “I said: pass. I don’t need a lawyer. I’m going to represent myself.”

 

“James please be smart here, Kevin’s passed the bar. He’s got influence, he can get you out of this.”

 

“No Chris, I don’t want the Prices getting me out of another mess, they’ve done it my whole life. Just let me take care of myself for once.”

 

~-~-~

 

Carlo laid in his bed, still in his suit. He was too tired to change after a day of covering for his senile father. The declining old man had gotten up and wandered out of a meeting with the mayor of New York City today and Carlo was left behind to finish the exchange and make up a flimsy excuse about a bathroom break. As his eyelids grew heavy, Carlo slipped his navy blue jacket off and loosened his tie, ready for sleep to take him… when somebody else did.

 

Glass exploded from his bedroom window and sent jagged shards flying all over the room. Carlo’s cheek was sliced open by a projectile. Cathal Green practically came flying into the room, riding the shockwave of whatever had blown up the window. He landed on the floor but quickly recovered himself, drawing a gun from the back of his pants. Slowly and with much less showmanship, Connor McKinley stepped through the window and into Carlo’s room. The three men stood still and silent, sizing up their opponents. It was two against one, but people had a tendency to underestimate Carlo.

 

Cathal was the first to move, jamming his gun into his belt and lunging for Carlo with both hands out. The two men collapsed onto the floor, glass digging into their backs and limbs. They grappled with another, Carlo desperately trying to get his bloodied back up off the floor. Cathal grunted and breathed heavily as he fought but froze when he felt Connor slip his gun out of his belt.

 

“Cathal, get up.” Connor said. He had the gun pointed at his own man. As Cathal stood, Connor followed him with the gun, herding him to a corner of the room. Carlo moved to stand but Connor quickly swung his arms to aim at him, “Don’t move,” Tentatively he added: “bitch.”

 

Carlo put his hands up and slowly eased back onto the ground. As soon as Connor’s attention was diverted, Carlo grabbed a huge shard of glass, ignoring the sharp edge that sliced into his palm and stood, pointing his makeshift blade at Connor.

 

“Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight.” Cathal sneered. Connor pointed the gun back at him with one hand, not taking his eyes off Carlo. “Shut-up Chathal.”

 

Disregarding his own safety, Carlo charged forwards and aimed the glass right for Connor’s bad eye. Rumors spread quickly in New York, everybody knew what Conall did to his boy. It was all a blur, blood spurted onto Carlo’s face as he felt the glass dig into Connor’s eye. The small win was short lived as Connor swiveled his body and planted two shots into Carlo’s abdomen at point-blank range. Both men crumpled to the ground. Cathal dropped to his knees, ignoring the glass, and leaned over Connor’s body.

 

A four inch piece of glass, jutted from his eye-socket. There was no saving that eye now, not after this. Cathal lifted his partner up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour then made off into the night.

 

~-~-~

 

“The son of New York mafioso Frank Davis was found dead yesterday night. According to our sources the twenty-four year old was shot twice in the abdomen, the shots hitting major organs. Police are yet to release an official statement, but NYPD officer Nabulungi Hatimbi says that she suspects the murder is mob-related. More on this story as it develops.”

 

Kevin closed his eyes and turned off the TV. Carlo was a good kid, straight as an arrow when it came to the business, he never screwed people over or beat around the bush, and now he was dead. Maybe Vinny was right, this seemed like the ideal way to start a war… or send a message.

 

He didn’t have time to deal with the disputes of the Davis family, Kevin had his mind focused on the inevitable damage control he’d have to handle once James “represented himself” in court. A Price lawyer had always handled James’ cases, _always_ , why should this be any different? Earlier today Kevin had tried to get in touch with Donnie Neeley to set up some fake jurors and dirty politicians to discredit witnesses, but the Neeley family had gone dark. Nobody could get in touch with one of the most important families in New York.

 

Interrupting his thoughts was Jack who came running into the room trailing a corded phone behind him. “Kevin!” He cried.

 

“What?”

 

“The McKinley boy is in the hospital. They say he’s gonna die.”

 

Kevin felt his heart stop beating and drop like a broken elevator. Jack’s girlfriend was a volunteer nurse at a hospital. This was no rumor, Jack had gotten this from the source.

 

“What- what happened to him?” Kevin choked, trying and failing to seem impartial.

 

“Candy said somebody stabbed him, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

 

“Where did he get stabbed? Do you know?”

 

Jack raised the phone to the side of his head and asked someone, presumably Candy, Kevin’s question. He nodded a few times and Kevin could hear the sounds of a bustling ER through the phone. Jack lowered the phone slowly and looked pale. “She said they stabbed him in the eye.”


	31. Twenty Nine

James leaned forward in the stand so that his mouth was only an inch away from the little microphone. He locked eyes with the prosecutor for a moment before hungrily scanning the jury causing a wave of awkward coughs and shuffles to wash over the jury box. “You think locking me up is gonna change anything? You think skinning the big bad wolf and giving fur coats to the poor is gonna fix your problems? There’s hundreds of me, THOUSANDS of me all over America; little boys from broken homes ready to pick up a gun and finally stop feeling powerless. This country raised me to be the way I am, this country breeds killers. America is married to murder, and it’s ‘till death do them part. I confess, to all of it. Every murder, every kidnapping, assault, robbery, parole violation, all of it… give me the firing squad, that’s all I want now.”

 

Someone gasped behind the bar and James turned to see that Chris had passed out into a woman’s lap. He made a move to try and go to him, but four armed police officers appeared from the judge’s chamber and roughly yanked James out of his seat. The bailiff slapped handcuffs on his wrists and followed James and his escorts out of the courtroom. When the procession moved down the aisle, men reached for their wives’ hands and people sitting on the ends of benches leaned away from James as he passed.

 

Outside the courthouse, Kevin was mobbed by reporters. Flashes of light blinded him and screams left him deaf as he stumbled through the sea of people to get to his car. When he reached the car door, Kevin turned and grabbed a young male reporter by his collar and yanked him forward. “Go! Ask your question!” He barked. The young man fumbled with his notebook and chose a line of questioning: “They’ve got him. How do you feel?”

 

The crowd got silent as the ravenous reporters waited for the mob boss’ response like vultures waiting for the death of a bunny caught on the freeway. “I feel fine, great, amazing, wonderful, over the fucking moon. You caught James Church, not the fucking Zodiac Killer, put things in fucking perspective.” Kevin shoved the reporter away and got into his car as the crowd exploded in shouts once more.

 

“Why would he do that?” Chris asked in a small voice, once the car was safely on the road and away from prying eyes. “Because he’s fucking suicidal.” Kevin said rubbing his temples in exasperation. He looked over at his friend and saw real hurt burning behind Chris’ eyes, little did Kevin know just how right he was.

 

~-~-~

 

Only four days after the trial, Chris went to visit James in jail one last time before he would be transferred to a high security prison in New Mexico. Kevin and Abby had been on the phone all day with authorities trying to make sure that James’ illness was accommodated for. Jack spent his day in James’ apartment collecting things that could incriminate him further and either burning them or dumping them in the Hudson.

 

Tucked into James’ pillowcase, Jack discovered a red book. He skimmed the pages, but couldn’t read a word of it. Some sentences were circled or underlined, but one page had a slip of paper nestled in it. The paper read:

 

_Dear Kevin and Chris,_

_Page 163, line 12._

_\- James_

Jack found the aforementioned line and read the sentence in butchered German.

 

_"Wer würde leben müssen kämpfen . Wer nicht in dieser Welt zu kämpfen will, wo permanenter Kampf das Gesetz des Lebens ist , hat nicht das Recht zu existieren ."_

 

In James’ nightstand drawer was a German to English dictionary that Jack used to translate the message. It came out to: “He who would live must fight. He who doesn't wish to fight in this world, where permanent struggle is the law of life, has not the right to exist.”

 

~-~-~

 

Chris showed his ID to the warden and was buzzed into the visiting room at the jail for the very last time. He took his seat at the fourth visitation booth from the right and waited patiently. Instead of James, a police officer took a seat across from Chris, he didn’t recognize this man at all.

 

The officer slipped his sunglass off, folded them shut, and placed them on the table behind the window. “Are you here to see James Church?” He asked.

 

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

A loud, metallic buzz filled Chris’ ears and he noticed a metal side door slowly opening. “Please come with me.”

 

Chris stood up and walked through the door into the prisoner’s side of the visitation area. He followed the officer through the visitation room and into the cellblock, down a long row of sweaty, shouting men who called Chris and the officer names and spit on them as they passed. James probably loved it here…

 

“I’ll give you a moment, and I’m sorry about the… circumstances.” The officer said awkardly, unlocking a steel isolation door.

 

“Circumstances?” Chris asked, but he only received a slow, knowing headshake as a response.

 

He reached a hand out and pushed open the door, leaving the guard outside. Upon entering the confining space, Chris was greeted by a white curtain to the face, blocking something from his view. Tentatively, Chris lifted the corner of the curtain and stepped beneath it.

 

The room was pristine. A metal desk was neatly stocked with paper and pens and a sheet of stamps, a clean toilet sat in the corner connected to a well-tended sink with a toothbrush on it, a metal bunk bed sat with the sheet missing from the only mattress it had. The missing sheet was in use though... it was rolled into a rope with one end tied to the light fixture and the other coiled around James’ neck.

 

James dangled, lifeless, from the ceiling. His eyes were still open and the usual fire that lit them was snuffed out by the cloudy sheen of death. James’ mouth was closed in a relaxed, resting expression as if he were only sitting at home watching the city outside his window, the city that he would never see again. Sweat matted his hair in wet clumps and his prison uniform suddenly stopped being amusing. Chris reached out and touched James’ ankle with the tips of his fingers. The slight disturbance caused James’ body to swing slightly.

 

On the tip-toes of his Italian leather dress shoes, Chris reached to gently close James’ eyes, letting his hands linger on the cheeks that he had once held so lovingly.

 

_“Kevin doesn’t know.”_

The thought hit Chris like a brick, somebody had to tell Kevin that his best friend was dead, that he’d hung himself alone in jail.

 

Kevin’s words in the car after the trial rang in Chris’ ears. _“Because he’s fucking suicidal.”_

Had Kevin known? Had Jack? Had Abby? Had Chris?

 

Nobody on Earth was closer to James than he was, there had to be some sign that this was coming. This was preventable and Chris had failed to stop it. It was probably all his fault now that he thought about it, only Chris new the other side of James, the side that knows foreign languages and snuggles in his sleep and has an inhaler hidden in his sock drawer, he should have seen this coming… he should have saved him.

 

~-~-~

 

Kevin sat at Vinny’s desk and hovered over the Sunday paper with a pen. He circled ads in the classified section, trying to find a job for Jack to take up in an effort to discourage him from perusing the family business as a life career.

 

A few days ago Chris had returned from the last possible meeting slot with James. Kevin had elected to sacrifice a goodbye to let the lovers have the sendoff they deserved. Chris had returned with news that all was well, that James is now safely in transit to New Mexico, and that he’d probably be in processing at the prison sometime this week. Jack had also returned with news that didn’t make much sense, something about Hitler and a philosophy that Kevin hadn’t quite listened to because he was too busy worrying about Connor. Yesterday news had arrived that Connor was in stable condition and Kevin was able to relax some.

 

~-~-~

 

“War? Frank, are you sure about this?” Donnie sat back in his desk chair and stared at Frank Davis across his desk. Frank had just suggested that the Neeleys, Cunninghams, and Davises go to war against the McKinleys and Prices.

 

“I’m sure. Those fucking barmaids killed my boy, Conall sent his own son to commit such a senseless act of violence, and this cannot be tolerated!”

 

Vito Cunningham rolled his eyes. “Frank if you’re squeamish about senseless acts of violence you might be in the wrong business.”

 

Frank launched out of his seat and backhanded the fat man across the face. “Watch your tongue _si grasso di maiale_.”

 

Donnie waved Tony Michaels and Sam Zelder over and the two men restrained Frank who was rearing to hit Vito again. “I will not have two distinguished grown men fighting in my home, return when you’re learned manners. Boys, show them out.” Donnie stood and left his office. Sam and Tony roughly escorted Vito and Frank out of the manor.

 

“Say, Frank?”

 

“What?” Frank snapped at Vito, rubbing his wrist where Tony had been gripping him.

 

“I didn’t see Leslie in there.”


	32. Thirty

“Kevin? Somebody’s here to see you.” Abby stood in the doorway to Vinny’s office. She wore a light pink sundress and saddle oxfords, she didn’t dress like the other girls Kevin had known growing up in mafia. Those girls were rough, sometimes vulgar, fiercely loyal to their families, and overall great women… just nothing like Abby. Since James went to prison she had begun hanging around Kevin’s home more often, mostly to spend time with Chris who seemed incredibly upset about something that he wouldn’t tell anybody about. Kevin’s mother thought Abby was his girlfriend, she wasn’t, but he didn’t care to correct the situation.

 

“Who is it?” He asked.

 

“Not sure, he won’t tell me his name, but Chris seemed to know him.”

 

“Well have Chris pat him down then send him in, would you?”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

Sam Zelder appeared in the doorway a few minutes later with the expression of a man who had just been thoroughly frisked. Immediately, Kevin stood up and practically sprinted to close and lock Vinny’s office doors. Then he spun on his heels and punched Sam in the face, hard.

 

Sam crumpled to the ground and Kevin stood over him with his fist drawn, ready to swing again. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sam?” He said in a low, threatening voice. “I told you to never, _ever_ come to my home.” With his hands in the air like he had a gun pointed at him, Sam stood and flexed his jaw, wincing when it popped. “I had to come. It’s an emergency.”

 

“The sky had better be falling, Sam. What is it?” Kevin said. He returned to the desk and glared at Sam when he tried to sit. Sam stood in front of the desk respectfully and spoke. “Vito and Frank came to Donnie earlier today and said they wanted to go to war.”

 

Everything went black and white. Sam’s face began to melt, it dripped down his chest, onto his lap, and then onto the floor. A new face grew where the old one used to be, it was the face of Vinny Price. “What did I tell you son? War. You think ’69 was bad? You were just a boy then, now you’re the boss and the lives of your family are in your hands. You’ll fail them all, you know you will. Everyone you love will die, James, Chris, your mother and brother and sister, even that pretty little gay boy you humor yourself with.”

 

Kevin couldn’t speak, he just stared as his dead father ripped into him. Tormenting him in the only way anybody could, by threatening his family. Suddenly Vinny leaned forward and snapped in Kevin’s face, a young man’s voice came out of his mouth. “Mr. Price!”

 

Color exploded back into the room and Sam’s face was back on his head where it belonged. “Sir, I think you blacked out for a moment.”

 

“No I didn’t. I’m fine. Tell anybody about this and I’ll kill your fucking cat do you understand me?”

 

Sam wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that Kevin had threatened his cat or the fact that he even knew he had one. He relayed the entire plan, what he’d heard of it anyway, to Kevin. It would seem that Vito, Frank, and Donnie didn’t particularly have a _problem_ with the Prices, it was really the McKinley’s frustrating everybody. “And you say that Conall found a bug in his office? Is that why the McKinley boys attacked Carlo?” Kevin asked.

 

“Yes sir, it was a botched job though.” Sam replied.

 

“Botched?”

 

“They were meant to kidnap Carlo so Conall and Cathal could interrogate him.” Cathal Green was the James Church of the McKinley family, Kevin was learning, just with fewer mental health issues and not nearly as deadly. Where Cathal was a blunt weapon, James was a freshly sharpened dagger.

 

“So how did he die? It seems like a cut-and-dry kidnapping job, my mother could execute that cleanly.”

 

“Apparently Conall’s son, Collin-“

 

“Connor.” Kevin correctly almost instinctually.

 

“Right, Connor, sorry. Apparently he had some kind of change of heart halfway through the job and decided to steal Cathal’s gun and take Carlo on himself. That’s how he got stabbed. Carlo got him in self-defense, but the Connor shot him with the gun practically pressed against his skin.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, this is a mess.” Kevin grumbled. He reached into Vinny’s desk and pulled out a wad of cash that was rubber-banded together and tossed it at Sam’s chest. “You’re a good informant, Zelder, a real stand-up guy. If this all goes to shit you have a safe place here among the Prices.”

 

“Thank you sir.”

 

~-~-~

 

Connor was laying in his bed, it was two weeks since he’d gotten out of the hospital and he felt tired all of the time. Iona played idly with her toys on the floor next to the bed.

 

The phone on the bedside table rang and Iona stood up and handed it to Connor. “Thank you baby.” He said, smiling at the girl.

 

“Baby? You don’t have another man there do you? I’ll knock some skulls together if I have to.” Kevin said in Connor’s ear.

 

“Stop it, it’s just Iona.” Connor said with a laugh.

 

“Good. How do you feel? I heard what happened but I could never find a safe time to check on you.”

 

“I’m doing better, I guess. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

 

“Forget you? Not likely.”

 

~-~-~

 

It was pouring in the city as Chris trudged down the sidewalk towards the seedy building that James used to live in. He’d begun paying his rent, not able to bear the thought of cleaning the place out so somebody else could live there.

 

He stepped over a prostitute lying in the hallway and approached James’ old door. Before entering the apartment he turned around to stare at the girl. He waited a few seconds until he saw her chest rise and fall with a breath before going inside.

 

Inside the apartment now, Chris dropped his bag by the door and took a seat at the table next to the kitchen. His head fell into his hands and he began to sob. The whole apartment smelled like James. Everything was as he had left it before coming to Kevin’s house the day he got arrested. There was a John Wayne movie in still in the VHS player, leftover pasta in the fridge, a basket of dirty laundry in the hallway that was probably going to be taken out when James got home.

 

Chris got up and went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water when he noticed a folded sheet of notebook paper stuck to the freezer with a magnet. In James’ handwriting, the note was addressed to Kevin’s mother. Chris pocketed the note and left.

 

~-~-~

 

Georgia Price was mid scold when Chris knocked on her bedroom door. She opened it and Jack, who was being reprimanded for sneaking Candy into the house after her curfew, slipped out.

 

“Christopher? _Cosa c’è di sbagliato il mio amore?_ ”

 

“Godmother, I need to confide in you.” Chris said weakly, this would be the first time he told anybody of James’ fate. Perhaps hiding James’ death was selfish, but if he didn’t tell anybody it didn’t seem concrete in Chris’ mind, like he was keeping his memory alive somehow by letting everyone believe he was running the show at some prison in New Mexico.

 

“Come in.” Georgia led Chris to her bed and sat him down before shutting and locking her bedroom door and sitting beside him. Her room was decorated with mahogany furniture and floral patterns, Vinny probably hated it in here, but he had loved his wife.

 

“I’ve been lying to the family, betraying the oath I made when Kevin asked me to serve beneath him as his consigliere.” Chris said, refusing to look his godmother in the eyes.

 

“I’m sure you haven’t done any harm, Christopher. I know you have this family’s best interests at heart, Kevin knows that too. Now tell me what’s causing you so much stress.”

 

“James is dead.”

 

Georgia said nothing. She stood up and walked over to her dresser, taking a tissue out of the box sitting on top of it. Using the tissue, Georgia dabbed at her eyes before rejoining Chris. “How did James die?” She asked.  


“He hung himself in his cell the night before they were going to send him to prison. A cop showed me his body, just- just dangling from the ceiling.” Chris lost control then and he started ugly crying into his hands. Georgia pulled him down to rest his head in her lap and stroked his blond hair gently. Her tears stopped, her boys always came first and now she would be strong for Christopher just as she was strong for her son and his father before him.

 

Chris sat up and pulled the crumpled paper from James’ apartment out of his pocket and handed it to Georgia. “This was in his apartment, it’s for you.”

 

The older women took the note and opened it up and read it, Chris could see her eyes flicking back up to reread some lines. He wondered what the note said. When she finished reading, Georgia tucked the note into a pocket on her skirt and stood up. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I don’t want you to worry about Kevin, things aren’t safe right now and I don’t want him to know about James’ death until everything has calmed down. You’re doing the right thing.”

 

“Are you sure? What if Kevin gets mad at us for keeping it from him?” Chris asked.

 

“How Kevin will feel in the future doesn’t matter, I’m his mother and you’re his adviser. We know what’s best for him right now. He needs to focus or all of our lives are at risk.”


	33. Thirty One

Connor rolled over in the large four-post bed and saw Kevin staring at him. “How long have you been up?” He asked.

 

Kevin shrugged. “An hour maybe.”

 

“You could’ve woken me up, you know. You don’t have to wait for me.”

 

Kevin wasn’t smiling, in fact, he looked _nervous_. Something was definitely wrong. Connor remembered something he’d heard a boss from Chicago say at a summit: _“When your best friend walks you into a room, you gotta know you’re never gonna walk back out.”_

Connor sat up. “I’ve gotta go.” He said stiffly.

 

Now Kevin didn’t look nervous, he looked like he had entered a full-blown panic mode. “No! Just… stay with me for a little bit longer.”

 

“I’m leaving, Kevin.” He moved to get out of the bed when Kevin grabbed his wrist tightly. Connor was scared. “No you aren’t.” Kevin said roughly. Everything about this rendezvous was weird from the beginning. Kevin had invited him over last night and when Connor arrived they didn’t do _anything_. Kevin didn’t even kiss him ‘hello’. They just went to bed, and now it would appear that Connor was being held against his will.

 

Kevin got up, not letting go of Connor’s wrist and practically pinned him to the bed by lying on top of him and letting his body go limp. “Get off.” Connor grunted, attempting to roll Kevin off of himself.

 

“I can’t!” Kevin cried, trying even harder now to hold Connor down.

 

“You _can’t_.” I _can’t_ let you leave is very different from I _won’t_ let you leave. Connor stopped struggling and Kevin allowed him to sit up. “Why not?” He asked.

 

“Vito and Frank are planning on attacking your father at home today. They’re trying to start a war and I don’t want you to get killed in the crossfire.”

 

“Kevin!” Connor almost shouted.

 

Kevin slapped a hand over Connor’s mouth before he got himself caught. “What!?” He whispered, staring him in the eyes.

 

Connor yanked Kevin’s hand off of his mouth. “ _Iona is there._ ”

 

~-~-~

 

Kevin broke every traffic law in existence on his way to the McKinley’s manor. Connor shook in fear in the backseat as Kevin swerved to avoid hitting a group of boys playing baseball in the street. “Careful!” Connor cried.

 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Kevin snapped, still staring ahead at the road. “let me go back and ask those boys how they’re doing and let Iona get fucking murdered because of your goddamn father.”

 

When they arrived Connor sprinted through the massive lawn instead of waiting for Kevin who was parking in the driveway. When he was about seventy yards away from the house a massive explosion ripped through the manor, blowing it up like a balloon that had been filled too much. Glass, and wood, and furniture, and stone flew everywhere. Kevin jumped out of his car without even putting it in park and ran to Connor, tackling him into the grass just as a flying water pipe was about to take his head off. Connor screamed at the top of his lungs and kicked Kevin hard in the chest, getting him off and running towards the rubble of what once was his home.

 

“Iona! Iona, where are you!” Connor shouted. Tears blurred his vision, he knew she was dead but he stumbled blindly around the rubble, tripping over debris as he searched. The sound of the bomb rang in his ears and he couldn’t hear Kevin calling his name. Kevin approached and grabbed Connor’s wrist. Both of their faces were covered in ash and dust and Kevin’s hair had been blown into a wild mess. He looked Connor straight in the eyes as he placed the head of a mangled stuffed bunny in his shaking hand.

 

Connor looked down at the bunny’s head. One of its eyes was missing. He squeezed it in his fist and some stuffing popped out and drifted away in the chilly upstate New York breeze. “Get away from me.” Connor said, staring at the toy.

 

“Connor, please. I was only trying to protect you.” Kevin begged, his voice shook. “I had no idea she was here-“

 

“She was here alone Kevin! Iona died all alone! Do you see my parents’ car? Because I don’t! They thought I was here to watch her, but no, I was with you because you’re a selfish bastard.”

 

“Connor I-“

 

“Just shut the fuck up Kevin!” Connor screamed in Kevin’s face. “Get off my property and never fucking speak to me again.”

 

“Connor, no.” Kevin reached out to touch Connor’s cheek but Connor smacked him in the face, hard. Kevin stumbled backwards.

 

“One day I’m going to become the boss of my family and then I swear on Iona’s life, I’m going to fucking kill you.”


End file.
